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grapejuicestyless · 2 months

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could we have a story that warms up my heart and makes me feel gushy and mushy and eeeeeeek!!!!!!! I’m in need of something to ‘awwwwwww’ to and I feel like you’re perfect for that 🥹🫶🏻

Tiny Moves

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: You and JJ have only been friends for a little while, but to him it feels like he’s known you forever and he’s so sure he’ll always want you forever. Inspired by the song Tiny Moves by Bleachers. I wrote this with JJ Maybank in mind because I’ve been on an OBX kick recently but it could definitely be rewritten to fit other people!

JJ Maybank was a notorious man whore, to put it delicately. Sleeping with any tourist who even batted their eyelashes at him, and any other girl from the cut who was desperate enough to sneak away from the party for a blurred night with the blonde.

He didn’t mind the status, being the guy they all went to. In his mind, no strings attached was the best thing for him. It meant no pressure to feel things and no guilt for turning down any girl who had stupidly fallen for him.

That was, until he met her. Y/n Y/l/n, a friend of a friend and his former lab partner from middle school. He didn’t mean to fall for her, but then again, who really plans on falling in love, let alone with some girl JJ wouldn’t even show up to biology class for when he was still on the brink of becoming a teenager.

He remembers the messy braids tied in her hair and the way the safety glasses left faint marks behind on her face after long hours spent leaning over a plastic beaker mixing different colored fluids to make a rainbow.

Back then, he never really paid her any attention. What she did or didn’t do never peaked his interest, he would much rather have spent his time with his cheek pressed against the palm of his hands while he looked out the window like he was in prison. Now, suddenly and without warning, it did matter.

JJ wanted all of her tiny moves, he wanted to forever remember the silly marks from the glasses on her face or how her nose would scrunch and the skin by her eyes would crinkle when she would smile. It made his chest feel funny, wanting all of the silly little nonsensical things from her, things that would never give him any kind of personal gain but all things he couldn’t stop praying for.

He remembers how she stopped by one day without warning in the middle of January, stumbling over the piles of leaves piled up by the front steps of the chateau. She was wearing a soft white dress that swayed around her ankles in the wind and had blue painted on her finger nails. She was just giving back his notebook he let her borrow when she was out of class with a cold a few days prior to her visit, and truthfully he had just stolen Pope’s notes and taken the credit, but the soft smile on her face and the dimples by her cheeks made it impossible for him to confess the truth.

When she left, he felt the insatiable burning in his chest and the intense pounding of his heart against his ribcage. He placed Kiara’s hand over his chest wearily, only driving himself into more of a panic as he declared to her that he believed he was having a heart attack. He felt so funny and sluggish that he was so sure of it, but Kiara only swatted his hand away and laughed with her whole stomach as she realized his feelings before him.

“Jayj, you’re in love!” She said it so loudly, he had to put a hand over her mouth and hush her until she promised not to say anything to anyone.

And how could he have not seen it? The tiniest moves she made, it was like watching his whole world shake. A simple smile or a polite giggle from across the campfire at one of his half decent jokes and he was redder than the sky at sundown and hotter than the lively flame in front of him.

He doesn’t know how it happened, or why he suddenly decided to start paying her any kind of special attention in their friendship, or even why it was her. He always thought he’d end up with Kiara because at least if he was unloveable, him and her had made a pact to get married if they hadn’t met anyone by thirty. But now, all of his past meant nothing to him when he had the something he didn’t even know he was looking to find.

“Stay still.” Her voice ordered playfully, taking my wrist in her hands and blowing a cool breeze across my fingertips.

The overwhelming smell of nail polish mixed with the addictive smell of freshness in her room, her pillows fluffy and her blankets piled all over her bed. I knew that John B was surely going to give me a hard time when I walked into his backyard with bright orange nails, but when Y/n finished up her own hands and looked up at me all doe eyed asking if I would let her paint mine the same color so we could match, I didn’t even think about the names he would call me before I said yes. All I could think about was how happy she would be if I were to give in.

“Smells so bad.” I gagged, trying to pull my hands from her grip playfully, nose crinkling at the chemical like smell that covered my hands.

She laughed, throwing her head back as she grabbed both of my hands this time, despite one of them already being dry and shook them in her own hands.

“You’ll mess it up you dork!” She leaned forward, practically laughing into my chest at my faux hurt that I painted across my face. I laughed too, but not nearly as hard. I was too focused on her.

I’d only really been friends with Y/n for a year. She had only started tagging along just last June, and yet, she consumed all of my thoughts more than anyone I’d ever known. I wanted to be around her all the time, make her laugh just so I could hear the breathiness in her voice as she claimed she couldn’t breathe because her ribs hurt too much. I’d only really known her for a year, but it felt like we’d been intertwined like this forever, and I’m certain I’ll feel like this forevermore.

It was like Kiara had told me in January when she first came by in her pretty white dress and a sweet smile on her face, I was in love and I loved her.

“I love you.” Her giggles sputtered off into one final breath of air squeaking from her throat, and her eyes stretched in a way that confirmed that what I had said was out loud and not just the phrase I repeated to her in my head over and over again every time we spoke.

And my whole world shook violently when I got no response, feeling my heart breaking for that silent second and only hearing the ringing in my ears accompanied by the humming of the fan in the corner of her room.

And then, suddenly, her hands were on my cheeks, lips pressed to mine and eyelashes tickling my cheeks as they fluttered shut. She tasted like strawberry chapstick and minty toothpaste, I couldn’t help but feel completely consumed by her when all I could feel was her. Her hands, her lips, her coconut shampoo.

My hands found the back of her neck, massaging the skin between my fingers to deepen the press of her lips to mine like if I weren’t, she would slip away and I would wake from this blissful dream of mine.

When we pulled away, I found her eyes looking straight into mine, lips swollen and pink from where we were connected just a moment ago.

Then, suddenly, she was melting into a fit of giggles that bubbled from her chest, eyes closing as her forehead rested against my shoulder. For a second, I thought she thought it was funny, but then I felt myself fall into the same static feelings of pure excitement, happiness and love that she was feeling. That same funny feeling spreading from my chest to ever limb in my body until I was buzzing with it, blushing until I was sure my whole face was beet red.

“Why are you laughing?” I laughed along with her, pulling her head to rest against mine with both of my hands, feeling her moving against my forehead with each giggle that escaped her lips. Her hands found mine, pulling them down to her lap where she could brush her hands over my knuckles and smile at polish, which was now worn away.

“You smudged it!” She breathed out like it was the funniest thing in the world, and I knew it felt like it to her because of the leftover nerves and giddiness resting in her stomach, the same fluttery feeling I felt as well.

“Eh, you can fix them, right?” I didn’t let her answer, pressing my lips to hers again and holding her hands in mine. I’d only just gotten a taste and I was already addicted.

Maybe I was having a heart attack, but I wouldn’t know the difference with all the love pumping through my body. At least if I was, I would die knowing I finally got the girl.

And all of her tiny moves.

#jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank

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yaut-jaknowit · 9 months

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Challenge Day

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4039

Summary: After a night of rest, We'ar-ow drags you around her quarters. From a bath to rid yourself of that male's smell to getting food in your stomach, she ensures you taken care of. Rough in treatment, you are confused on what to feel. It doesn't matter. We'ar-ow takes you to the last place you want to be.

Author Note: Little warning, tiny bit of graphic content. Just bone breaking. I'm so glad everyone is loving on her. I'm planning of writing more for her and have a small plan drawn up already.

Ao3

Masterlist

A yawn broke your neutral expression. It was hard. To keep a façade up and hold back your anger for the situation. This was humiliating! This… why did everything have to change? Why so sudden? If you release your anger, said one wrong thing to We’ar-ow, you would think yourself dead. Said Yautja had rudely awaken you. It felt like you gained no sleep after waking up.

Coarse fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulled you from the room. At this point, you realized… We’ar-ow was speaking. Her deep, throaty voice was hard to understand in the first place. When your brain has barely had time to comprehend all that has happened just this morning, there was no room to understand what the Monarch was saying.

With a free hand, you rubbed at the crust in your eyes. Huh, must have cried in your sleep or something. Now, you were finally able to fully see where she was dragging you. Across the strange living room and towards a door you just realize existed. The metal door slides to the side to reveal a massive room.

No time was given to you. She had you by the arm and forced you into the bathroom attached to the bedroom. Almost similar to your ex-mate’s bathroom, the only true difference was color and size. The tub could easily hold four female Yautjas without discomfort. This is when you realized the tub was full and steaming water.

Worst than before, you were giving absolutely not time to reaction as the clothes you wore were shredded. Your mind didn’t have time to even produce a yelp as We’ar-ow shoved you into the in ground tub. Your arms batted the water in a frenzied panic at first. You surged through the surface to gasp for air.

Almost instantly, you whipped your head to glare daggers at her before the logical side of your mind stepped up. Shit. You became submissive, ready for her to punish you. But nothing, no words or hits came. You peeked your head up to find an amused expression painting her face. It took a lot not to scoff. Instead, you simmered down into the water to hide everything below your neck. You didn’t want her to see more than you could control.

This earned a chuff. We’ar-ow shook her head. “Oomans,” was muttered underneath her breath. She kept guard though, eyes not leaving your form. The gaze caused your skin to crawl. You stayed slightly crouched down, eyes focused on the water, while not moving.

A crackly scoffed broke the silence. “Wash.” Your brows crunched the skin between them. What? How? You turned your head this and that way. Just water. Nothing to wash yourself with. What did she expect to use?

“Did the buffoon teach you nothing? I will take great pleasure besting him today. Maybe I will take his head as well, hang it in your new room, pet.” We’ar-ow took the necessary steps forward till her toes hung over the edge of the in ground tub. Her knees bent to a crouch. The salmon pink Yautja used a hand to scoop water and poured it over your head.

Almost… intimate. An action your ex-mate could do in the privacy of the community showers when time allowed it. “The water will cleanse your skin, wash away that Paya-awful male’s scent from you. Wash,” she commanded once more. Now, you understood truly what she expected from you.

You mirrored her actions from before and let water run down my head. Then, your eyes flicked up to hers. Was that good enough? “More.” Nope. You sighed before gaining a great idea. You dunked yourself fully under the surface then waited a few seconds. Once you felt it was enough, you broke the surface again, albeit this time calmer, and glanced up. She nodded.

Good. As you about to move to slip out of the tub, you realized something. There wasn’t anything to cover up with. She had already embarrassed you enough by ripping off your clothing then throwing you in here! Anger simmered in your boiling blood. All of this far too overwhelming to deal with and no given time to comprehend the situation.

All of this was just humiliating to say in the least. You swallowed what leftover pride you could hold onto and peered up at her. “I need a-a towel,” you requested, eyes flickering around her form and looking everything besides her.

The Yautja was still crouched down, nowhere near your level, but close by. Without any pretense, a pink hand grasped at your bicep and hauled you out of the water. You yelped and struggled against her hold, legs and arms flailing wildly. We’ar-ow pinned your back swiftly to her chest, loose hand coming to firm encase your neck.

Untamed attempts to break free from her were thwarted the moment her hand held your life. One squeeze could end it all. She felt the way your throated bobbed with a heavy swallow. She was back to her full height now. The Yautja slightly bent forward to further press herself into your backside. “Good pet.” She took full pleasure in your reaction. Fuck.

From the tops of your vision, you see her pink, split tongue skirt over her lower jaw. “Better,” is all she says before she removes herself from your backside. That’s when you realized you’ve been holding your breath the entire time. It rushed out of you in one big breath.

A hand fixated itself on your bicep before tugging you along. All you could do was listen… like a good pet. She brought you over to a spot in the bathroom before releasing her hold then pushing a button on the wall. Warm gushes of air dried the water from your skin, pleasantly warm. All drops of water officially removed from your previously damp skin.

Surprises morphs over your face. Your ex-mate didn’t have this but being the Monarch of the ship gave you special privileges, you guessed. The shock was allowed to simmer. We’ar-ow held onto your bicep once more and practically dragged you over to her bedroom of sorts. Clothes were pulled onto your body without another word. She shoved you out.

Out the room you had been in, into a massive living room, and towards a kitchen. Scents of food, good food wafted up into your nose. Not only were you starving, you were dying for water. Your throat ached, scratchy and dry. It left you with a headache that pushed at the back of your eyes.

The Monarch was none-the-gentler as she pushed into the bar stool too big for you. You catch yourself on the counter’s edge with not a second to waste. “Consume,” the voice you’re coming to learn barked. Then, she was off, marching towards a room towards the opposite of the front door. The same room we just came from.

On the verge of glaring at her, you grunted lowly and plopped your behind down on the stool. That’s when you realized why she had said ‘consume’ earlier, and where that delicious smell was coming from.

Before you sat a plate of steaming food, food that you didn’t begin to understand what it was made from. Instantly, your stomach growled painfully. A heady reminder. You glanced over to the door We’ar-ow left through. It was closed. You couldn’t hear anything from this far away. But she was gone, out of sight.

You were finally able to take your first full breath without any anxiety to squeeze the air out of your lungs. Yet, in the back of your mind, you knew your guard couldn’t be put down. Not now, not ever. Then, you focused on the food. Nothing smelled off about it, nothing gave you any bad vibes about it. And, We’ar-ow hasn’t given you a reason not to trust her. But, this is the Monarch we are talking about. Someone you don’t know. You scowled but your stomach snarled with a hungry roar. Pain cramped through your abdomen. You’ve never been this hungry before. Your ex-mate never let you go without a meal once a day.

By God’s grace, you were starting to become dizzy from dehydration. You smacked your lips together. A clear glass of see-through liquid was just sitting there. Once more nothing seemingly wrong with it. How could you know though? You weren’t like these guys. You had no great senses that allowed you to smell things miles away or hearing that alerted you in the same fashion. A sigh sounded from your lips.

Fuck it. You grabbed the glass and gulped down the entire thing within seconds. A bunch of air sucked in as well which caused you to burp… quiet loudly as well whoops. Your head whipped over to the door mentioned before. No movement or sounds. Good.

Back to the plate. With a finger, you nudged the things that looked like meat. It was warm. Cooked. Your eyebrows jumped with surprise. What. Something in your chest warmed with a familiar heat. You were swift at stomping it out before it had a chance to grow. Fine. That was… nice of her to do that. You picked up the slab of cooked meat and tore a chunk from it. It was still quite warm in your hands, almost unbearable. You held up the smaller chunk to your nose and sniffed it.

To be honest, it smelled glorious. So well, flavored and thoroughly cooked. You couldn’t helped the tiniest of smiles to grace your clean face. Finally, you placed it into your mouth and chewed. From the lack of food for a day, you hummed with delight. Delicious.

Before long, you had the entire plate cleared of food. You couldn’t know when your next meal would be. You didn’t know how the Monarch will… take care of you. Everything had been flipped on its head and you didn’t know what’s going to happen. You slumped in your chair, doing everything in your body not to just sob again. Defeated.

Warm fingers pinched your chin harshly and pulled your body up, almost lifting you off of the chair. Your hands went to wrap around a pink wrist, eyes darting up to find We’ar-ow. A gasp tore at your throat. Fear flooded your body, eyes clenched shut, ready for her to just snap your neck… but that never happens.

“Head up, spine straight. Don’t coward like prey. You are my pet. My pet won’t be prey,” she ordered and kept your head up, level, like the way she told you before. You cracked open an eye. We’ar-ow is still looking at you with her orange piercing gaze. She leaned in closer than she’s ever before, spilt tongue tasting the air. The Monarch dipped her head in approval. “Better, but I will get rid of that male’s smell later. I have an important meeting to attend. Do you know what it is?”

Curses flew around your mind. Why did she have to talk with you or ask you questions that made you have to answer? You lowered your gaze then shook your head softly. She pinched your chin harder. “When I address you, answer, my pet.”

A pregnant pause filled the air before you took in a deep breath. “No,” your voice quiet in the kitchen, eyes anywhere besides her body. We’ar-ow lumbered closer, a mandible lifting.

“That male who dishonored you, my new pet. He’ll face me in a challenge. He will lose. He will. You are mine. And I will keep you.” You couldn’t help but shiver at her tone. It was like she was a hundred percent certain your ex-mate will not win against her. In all honesty, a large part of your mind said she was correct. Her confidence bled over to you, contagious like a cold.

You wanted nothing more to blurt out the same question as before: ‘why?’ But you believed she would answer the same way. Instead, you held your tongue.

“You’re coming with me. First though-“ We’ar-ow stepped back to put space between the two of you, hand slipping from your chin. “You need to look like my pet. Come.” We’ar-ow turned her body in the direction of the original room she left through. Yet, you froze, stuck in place, not daring to follow her.

She notices this but doesn’t stop. Only a hand came to wave you along. “Don’t make me tell you twice.” Despite the voice being low and grumbly, it wasn’t harsh, just a general commanding her battalion. A tone you listened to, fearing what would happen if you didn’t. Your head bowed as you hopped off of the chair. But the plate… It would be rude and disrespectful to leave it behind.

“Leave it.” Okay, that answers that. You jumped at her sudden voice then scrambled after her. All the while, you kept a heady space behind her.

The door opened up to her presence. It was on the verge of closing until you got closer. You stopped at the entrance to stare into the room.

Holy. Shit. You couldn’t believe how big it was in here. Gracious, highly decorated, skulls, furs, and bones. A hunter, through and through.

Some of the skulls, five to be exact, were… human. You shuttered. Your ex-mate was kind enough to hide away the ones he collected when you reacted, well, horribly. It was a reasonable way to act when you see your own kind’s skull mounted on someone you loved’s wall. You shuttered, body tensing, ready to bolt in pure panic.

We’ar-ow turned around to face you, a bored look on her face. “You done?” It was like she was expecting you to react this way. Something inside of you curled into a ball at the knowledge. “Follow.” We’ar-ow motions you to follow deeper into this… this hell hole, this nightmare filled room. A place that bones of your species decorated the walls. You rapidly shook your head side to side, feet taking a step back to bolt.

The Monarch wasn’t letting you go. A hand wrapped around your throat and lifted you enough to be on your toes. Your bare feet scrapped for hope to stand on something. But she keeps you like this and brings you close. “My pet does not run! My pet stands to face the fear and danger. I will have to train you, unlike that measly male. He did nothing, didn’t he?”

Through the blood rushing violently in your ears, you desperately nodded your head. Any way to convince her to drop you. All you could think about is her snapping your neck. She’s the Monarch. She didn’t have to give a reason on why. Plus, you were her pet.

“Words.”

“Yes! Yes, he-he did nothing.” An alien smirk graced her face again. Her hold on you released. You landed unsteadily on your feet and snapped your head up at the Monarch. She stared down at you, looking over her upper mandibles.

Before a chance to think was given, We’ar-ow turned around and gracefully crossed the room over to the open concept bathroom. Almost similar to your ex-mate’s room, the only true difference was color and size. The tub could easily hold four female Yautjas without discomfort. Her hand swiped at something from the sink and she marched back towards you.

The Yautja towered, truly you meant that, over you but she doesn’t kneel down to get a better view. Instead, We’ar-ow sat down on her haunches. It helped a ton. Yet, she was still a good head taller than you. Without missing a beat, whatever in her hands was transferred to your head. Warm metal skirted around your head, beads falling down to tap against your cheeks. It tickled at first but you stayed still as the female fussed.

After a solid minute, she dipped her head and stood abruptly. “It will have to do,” she stated and continued to peer down at you over her mandibles. For a moment, your mind supplied she was wanting something from you. Words.

“T-thank you,” you offered your appreciation. Honestly, you did value the fact on your second day here, the Monarch has gifted something to you. A deeper part of yourself felt horribly guilty. From your limited knowledge of their culture, females don’t gift things. That’s the job of the male, to woo over any mates for the season.

That appreciation was thrown back in your face. We’ar-ow scoffed then huffed. You flinched, hands and shoulders drawn. A hand engulfed your neck once more. This time, much gentler. Her thumb and claw stroked up the side of your throat… right over an artery. One move, meant or not, could end your life swiftly.

Her mandibles clicked in thought, but nothing the translator picked up. Then, the warmth was gone and her massive form glided around you. She headed towards the door with purpose. Like a lost puppy, you scrambled after her.

This would be a good step forward. Maybe it be in the right direction or not, you don’t know. We’ar-ow didn’t look back once as she guided you through the door of her room, down the elevator, or through the halls. Every step this hunk of muscle took was prideful but not in an egotistical way. Here you were, a meek human doing everything in your power to keep up without looking like a fool. At least your ex-mate slowed partially down for you. She did not care.

With the pace she led, the pair had made it to the designation in her mind quickly. You realized where this was. The sparring room. Many males were already on the mats, proving their worth in a fight. That’s when you smelled the heavy scent of pheromones. Overwhelming and shoved straight into your face. Your mind couldn’t decide if the feeling it caused was good or bad.

When the Monarch entered the room, all those who were in her presence stopped. Males who were fighting tooth and nail ripped away from each other to bow respectfully. Green blood making the mats slick for them. You trotted up to We’ar-ow to stand a couple of feet behind her.

Before you had a chance to get a step closer, a blur of orange raced across your vision. Pink entered the very next second. Your brain stuttered to comprehend all you just witnessed. To your right, the Monarch held a near bone breaking grip on an orange male’s wrist. Now, it caught up to you. The male was going to grab you.

Despite seeing the tension in We’ar-ow’s body, her face was neutral as she stared down at the meek, young male. No words were needed as she calmly snapped his forearm. You slapped a hand over your mouth before any noises could escape. Even though in the past, you’ve seen the brutality that made up the Yautjas at their core. To see it happen less than a foot away from you… to hear how his bones just splintered by this female. Your stomach felt queasy at the sight.

Like it never happened, We’ar-ow faced the majority of the crowd, eyes scanning carefully through the crowd. All eyes on the Monarch. Even other females watched her with rapture, as if waiting for We’ar-ow to do something.

That’s when you felt a burning gaze so familiar. Your shoulder scrunched up to hide away, as if that was possible. You didn’t even dare to look in that general direction. Your heart pounded like a hammer. Creeping, crawling feelings snaked up your spine to settled in the middle of your chest. Echoes of his words rang back like a broken record.

“Dwainet,” the Monarch’s voice rung out like a church bell. The room seemed to still at the call of him. No one dared to speak, let alone whisper their rumors. You slowly picked up your head now, to find his eyes looking at We’ar-ow. Fear. Fear in those eyes you used to peer into.

You don’t know why but the tiniest of a proudful grins raced over your face. To see the alien that broke your heart then smashed on it right in front of you almost wet himself made you almost grin. This must not be usual for the Monarch to call out a male. Or the look on her face was deadly. You couldn’t see what she looked like from behind her. You didn’t dare peek either.

We’ar-ow raised a hand. With a single finger, she called the Yautja to step up. From your spot, it looked like it took all of Dwainet’s will to take a step forward. Let alone the rest to stop a respectful distance from her. His eyes were no longer on her anymore, but they hadn’t settled on you either. The fright in his system the only thing driving him.

The Monarch began to circle around the small male, looking him over. Each step was strategical, purposefully placed. Dwainet stood there, stiller than a statue as the female looked him over. Despite this being mating season, the look in his eye told you he knew that’s not what this was about.

When she was behind him, Dwainet sent a deadly glare down at your pathetic form. Your chest tightened. Shit. Your whole body froze as he silently glowered. Nothing in your body would listen. All of your muscles tensed, ready to spring but not moving.

Nothing left We’ar-ow’s vision. She noticed the way you tensed once behind Dwainet. If it wasn’t for your gaze stuck on him, she would’ve believed it was due to her about to best the male. Instead, We’ar-ow snatched a handful of tresses and yanked him back. All of his attention returned to her. She watched as his face morphed from the intense pain of his tresses being roughly handled.

“I challenge you, Dwainet. When I win, your pet will be mine,” We’ar-ow laid out her plans in front of the male. You watched as his eyes widened, the way his spine tensed.

Harsh whispers rolled over the large group in the sparring room. The translator that sat behind your ear did nothing, unable to pick up a single word. All you could do was glance around the room to read people’s faces the best you could. If only you could hide away when many eyes were on you. You were the center of attention now, no longer ignored as a meek pet.

Dwainet made a noise similar to choking on air. “You can have it!” he gave in so easily. Your stiff posture immediately deflated like a balloon. ‘It.’ He called you an it. The fractured pieces that still held on officially fell away to the darkness.

In a fit of unchanneled rage, you marched over to the restrained male and used a hand to yank on his only lower mandible. We’ar-ow allowed him to be moved by you, still holding onto him firmly. She couldn’t help the sliver of a smirk gracing her mandibles at the sight.

“You will fight her. You will lose. You will be left to wallow in your failure, alone!” you spat, voice gaining volume with each word till your voice echoed in the sparring room. Blood rushing through your ears and heart pounding are all you hear for a few long moments.

All you’ve done came rushing back. Before having a chance to fret over the situation, We’ar-ow hauled the male away from you to the nearest mat. The two males that occupied it were swift in their retreat and stood at the sidelines now.

Some Yautjas held smirks on their face as they watched. Others couldn’t look away from you. The rest just watched in rapture at the sight before. Something they’ve never seen before. The Monarch fighting for claim on a pet. While said pet, yourself, just stood at the edge of the mat. Yautjas crowded you from behind, not too close though. Their bodies creating a wall of muscles and bone, not letting you take a single step away. Shit. You were trapped to watch the brutality of a female that wants you. The Monarch wants you.

But your heart was far too guarded now.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #We'ar-ow #female yautja #female predator

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rosescovenwrites · 2 months

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10th Doctor NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: pegging, spit kink, graphic descriptions of cum, threesomes mentioned, pegging, bondage, the Doctor's massive cock (needs a warning in and of itself)

a = aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

The absolute sweetest boy, he will clean you up, shower you off (might go for round 2 if you're up for it), cuddle with you, and do whatever you want. He gets hungry after sex so he will make you both a little snack.

b = body part (his favorite body part of his and yours)

The Doctor personally favors his hands because he knows how to use them (like fuck have you seen David’s hands, they do those close ups of them for a reason). Whether he’s touching your ass or your pussy, he knows how to get you riled up and ready to take him.

On a cheesy note he adores the cute faces you make when he’s fucking you and just in general. Sexually speaking, he loves your ass. When you're off on another planet he is shameless and grabs it when no one is looking (some planets physical affection in public is totally normal so if someone did catch him no one would bat an eyelash).

c = cum (anything to do with cum)

He cums a lot and can do so several times in a session. Perks of being a time lord. His favorite place to cum is on your body in some way. If he’s taking you from behind he will paint your ass white with his cum. He cums inside you once you feel comfortable with that.

d = dirty secret (a dirty secret of his)

The Doctor really enjoys being tied up sometimes and edged and vice versa. He would use his different ties and it is super hot.

e = experienced (how experienced is he? does he know what he’s doing?)

Being over 900 years old he has had his fair share of sexual partners.

f = favorite position (goes without saying)

The Doctor really likes the legs on shoulders position because he can penetrate you deeper and because he likes to look at you during sex. Normal missionary is too boring for you both.

g = goofy (is he more serious in the moment? humorous? etc.)

This is the 10th Doctor we are talking about, so he can be goofy at times during sexy time. Sex isn’t always pretty like it is in the movies, silly things can happen. Sometimes when he is stressed he gets more serious and the sex is always ungodly hot regardless.

h = hair (how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps things clean and trims when needed.

i = intimacy (how is he during the moment? is he romantic?)

He is adorably loving and sweet, always checking how you are and he is a consent king.

j = jerk off (masturbation headcanon)

Because he is always with you, he really doesn’t need to masturbate. Though there are times when he thinks he’s being sneaky and he masturbates in your shared bedroom in the Tardis and you walk in on him, he is adorable and turns bright red but you of course urge him to keep going. Mutual masturbation is also something you both partake in, usually as a form of foreplay but he does prefer to touch you himself.

k = kink (one or more of his kinks)

Praise kink 100%, you praise him, he praises you and it is so sweet

Sir kink, it makes him so fucking hard when you call him that

Edging, delayed gratification for both parties makes the orgasm so much better

Bondage, nothing too kinky but he loves restraining you with his ties or blindfolding you with one to heighten your senses

Spit kink, spitting in your mouth or you in his to taste each other’s juices/cum

Not sure if this is considered a kink but he is into him being fully clothed while fucking you and you being completely naked.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

Usually in the Tardis of course (not when it's moving though that would be terrifying and no one would be handling the controls), specifically in the bedroom. He likes you both to be comfortable and the bed is typically the best place to do that. Sometimes in the bath or shower when the timing is right.

m = motivation (what turns him on?)

When you wear more revealing clothing or when you wear one of his iconic suits

Simple but effective when you bend over in front of him

When you tug on his hair during a kiss

When you’re confident, it makes him both happy and horny

n = no (something he wouldn’t do)

Nothing that would severely hurt or injure you, spanking and choking is hot but nothing too aggressive.

Nothing to do with bodily fluids (blood, urine, shit, etc.)

No dubious consent he is too sweet for that and it feels icky for him

No weapon play

o = oral (preference on giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves, loves, loves eating you out and he knows you feel so good because you pull on his hair a bit. On the other hand, he loses his mind when you suck him off because the noises you make and the sex in your eyes drives him wild and makes him absolutely feral. When you gag on it, it strokes his ego (clearly not the only thing being stroked ;) ).

p = pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

The Doctor can be either depending on his mood. Regardless of pace he constantly checks with you because he wants to make you happy, safe, and comfortable.

q = quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Usually, the Doctor likes to take his time with you when you have sex. He certainly finds quickies fun and thrilling but he loves to have longer intimate time spent with you. One time you had a quickie it was rough and dirty (which is usually how they go). Jack almost caught the two of you in the act, but he didn’t see anything but he knew because you both had sex hair and you still had his tie around your neck.

r = risk (is he okay with experimenting? does he take risks?)

The Doctor would take risks to an extent, but nothing too crazy. Public sex is not something he would be into because he loves you too much to risk that. However, he doesn’t mind going for a quickie in a bathroom or closet, maybe even in the parked Tardis with the door open if you’re both feeling a bit on the frisky side.

s = stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

He can go about 5-6 rounds and he usually can last anywhere from 10 minutes (for quickies) or 45 minutes (when he wants to take his time with you, he wants to make you cum as many times as possible).

t = toys (does he own toys? how much does he use them? on you or him?)

I feel like there would be a lot of like intergalactic sex toys you find along the way on your travels with the Doctor. I can’t be the only person who thinks how sonic screwdrivers look a whole lot like vibrators.

On him, he would probably try pegging at least once, but I have a feeling he would really, truly enjoy it.

u = unfair (how much does he like to tease?)

As stated above, edging is huge for the Doctor both when giving and receiving. You tease each other an equal amount and are both switches. Sometimes he will whisper dirty things in your ear when you are out and about and gives you subtle touches but says you have to wait. You tease him too by sucking on a lollipop or popsicle or walking around the Tardis in one of his shirts and nothing else.

v = volume (how loud is he? what kind of noises does he make, etc.)

The Doctor is not afraid to grunt, moan, and be vocal about how good you feel. He also loves to praise the hell out of you and say things like “good girl” but also “my little slut” when he is being mean in bed or is in a mood.

w = wild card (random headcanon)

He would be down for a threesome, usually he wouldn’t want to share you because he loves you and only you (we love a loyal baby girl, 10 is so baby girl sometimes I swear). He might even fuck around with you and the Captain Jack Harkness. The Doctor has always been queer to me and there has always been undertones of that.

I know in the show he hates being called sir in a professional way, but when you say it during sex he loves how obedient and good you’re being for him.

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

You know the David Ten-inch joke and I know that’s MASSIVE but in my canon it is 100% accurate.

y = yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

Doctor Who, more like Doctor Horny, this man loves to fuck. He can go multiple rounds in a night/day and has a pretty quick refractory period.

z = zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards?)

I feel like the Doctor would be kind of energetic or “on a high” after sex since he’s not human, he would lie with you because you’re exhausted (especially after going several rounds) and he will eventually drift off to sleep beside you.

#tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor #tenth doctor smut #david tennant #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction

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bettyfrommars · 9 months

Note

A blurb of biker!Eddie posing for reader for a future painting. The painting imagery of your choice, snarky jokes about being her French girl would be icing on the cake.

Thank you so much for this ask, Angie, it made my heart happy❤️

18+Only for mature themes. wc: 892

from the I'm on Fire au

biker!Eddie x fem!artist!Reader

“Babe,” you gave Eddie a look around the side of the big canvas you had propped on a wood easel. “You’re doing it again.”

Forever fidgeting, the man could never sit still. On the couch in front of you, Eddie rubbed his hands down his face with a groan and sat forward, placing elbows to knees. He’s shirtless, in a pair of jeans, with his guitar resting on the floor next to him. The wash of tattoos over his chest, stomach, and arms would be a challenge, but you planned to fill those details in later. You’d considered having him strip all the way down, but you didn’t want to traumatize Dustin’s family when they brought the baby over for a visit.

“I never realized how hard it would be to stay in one place for so long,” he mused, running his fingers through his hair. “How did those people in the old days do it? Just standing there. No wonder they all look like they are all mean muggin’ or trying to take a shit.”

You put the brush down and went over to him, softly taking his chin to make him look up at you, your hand stained with charcoal and white paint flecks. You swept the curtain of his bangs to one side with your other hand, meeting the weariness in his maplewood eyes with love and patience.

“You’re on your bike for hours some days. This is just like that,” you tried to reason with him.

Eddie reached up to settle his hands at your hips. “No but that’s different. On the bike I’m moving fast and the wind is in my face, my mind is clear. Now, all I can think about is everything I need to fix and work on in this house. I want it all to be perfect for you, for us.”

It’d been almost six months since Eddie surprised you with the keys to the old Ferguson farmhouse, the one you’d both had your eye on for a while. Indeed, the place was over a hundred years old and needed a lot of work, but you had your paints and you had Eddie, and the rest just didn’t matter as much.

You let go of his chin and he leaned in to plant a kiss on your stomach before tilting his chin up to meet your gaze again.

“This is really important to me, baby,” you tucked hair behind his ear, and then untucked it, and you could feel him searching your face. “One day, Oliver or one of the other kids will put this painting in their home to remember their uncle Eddie. And they’ll know the person who painted it loved you more than life.”

Eddie’s arms were suddenly around your waist, pulling you down into his lap, pecking kisses all along your neck and face, making you squirm and giggle. He was fresh out of the shower, smelling like Irish Spring; his hair air-dried and fluffy. When he came up for air, you caught his face between your hands.

“Please, baby. For me,” you pleaded. “Just an hour or two a day, I know you can do this.”

“For you, I will,” his lips met yours, brushing them as he spoke, but then a smile cracked the sides of his mouth. “I want you to paint me like one of your French girls.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you beamed, batting your eyelashes, pushing out of his lap and onto your feet. You decided not to remind about the time you rented Titanic, and Eddie was the one with wet eyes, holding you close as if he were about to lose you to the frigid, dark waters. He held you so tight that night in bed, waking up every hour to check and make sure you were still there.

When he felt you shift and knew you were awake, he’d whispered into the back of your neck: “If something ever happened to you, I don’t think I’d be able to move on.” And even though you were not privy to the mysteries the future held, you assured him that you’d both grow old together and pass away at the same time.

Back in the art room, you brushed your hands off on your apron and got in front of the canvas. “Okay, let’s try this again,” you picked up one of the charcoal pencils to sharpen it. “You can have a smoke if you want, baby, just don’t move your legs.”

“Anything for you, Jack,” Eddie chirped, eager to pop a cigarette between his lips, cupping his hand over the end to light it.

In the end, the smoldering cigarette between his fingers made it into the painting. Legs wide, guitar propped to one side, one hand resting on his thigh, the other arm hooked around the back of the couch so he could flick the ash into an empty can of Coke. His jeans were unbuttoned, purple scar on one side of his stomach, and he wasn’t smiling, but the light of love in his eyes was unmistakable as dark hair spilled around his shoulders.

Decades later, Steve’s son Oliver would never tire of telling the story when people asked about the painting. The story of a down and dirty biker named War Machine and the woman he devoted his life to.

#biker!Eddie #I'm on Fire #older!Eddie munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie munson series #Eddie munson fluff

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cursedcola · 1 year

Note

May I ask for some headcanons for Cater, Jade, Jamil, Epel and Idia with an s/o that gets easily flustered please?

Prompt: s/o who is easily flustered. Characters: Cater Diamond, Jamil Viper, Epel Felmier, and Idia Shroud. A/N: Hello :) Just a note, but I have a character limit policy in place for four per request. Therefore I have removed Jade from this post since he is the one who sparked the least amount of inspiration.

Cater Diamond

Only flustered around him

At first he finds the trait normal. Cater is used to people being flustered around him. He's got charm and flirting skills to boot. Not to mention how his Magicam followers bend backwards for him. Cater says jump, and they say 'how high' with an incomprehensible amount of likes. In short, Cater is popular. Very popular and well-loved. He doesn't bat an eye to the way your cheeks tint when he laughs, or the way you stumble around campus with a trail of frantic apologies. It's his charm. Anyone else with his level of charisma will likely evict the same response. You're predictable and an open book - not that he minds. He's used to it.

Wrong. You see, Cater doesn't realize it but you are only flustered around him. This 'klutz,' image he has painted is completely different than the impression everyone else has. Only Cater brings the jittery mannerisms out and if there's one thing Cater has right - it's that you're an open book. Just to everyone except himself. He'll continue turning a blind eye towards your feelings unintentionally. If he doesn't figure it out soon, someone is going to tell him. If you drop one more lunchtray or trip into the pond again - it's free game.

Jamil Viper

Flustered by anything and everything

Finds the behavior frustrating. It's difficult to talk with someone when they won't look you in the eye, or they are constantly fidgeting. You stumble over your words and sometimes sentences become word salads. The tiniest noise makes you jump and it near gives him a heart attack every time. Someone knocks on the door and you give the same response as if an explosion went off...it is unsettling.

Yet, at the same time, it is endearing. Jamil would like for you to gain a sense of confidence and security. You should not be jumpy over every little thing, it simply isn't a healthy way to live. Albeit so...he does like the predictability and recognition. He always knows what you're thinking. Over time you became comfortable with him, and so if you become flustered then he knows something is wrong (or right hehe). He makes a dish for lunch, and you're tongue tied when giving a comment? You like it. He did good. He changes his hair, and the next day you can't look him in the eye? You like it. He might keep it. Kamil is screaming in the next room about throwing a party, and you're scooting closer? Alright. You're uncomfy. Time to fix it.

Point made.

Epel Felmier

Flustered by anything but him

Seriously? What does a man have to do to impress his s/o? Epel brings you a bouquet, and you thank him with a smile. Not a hint of bashfulness. He holds your hand without warning and you gently squeeze back. He sings for you. Not in his trained gentle voice, but the one he hums tunes in back at home while carving apples.

You don't bat an eye and give him a size hug. "Wow, you sound great," you say. Nice. Everyone likes a compliment, but he wants to see your face redder than a strawberry and if a love ballad can't do that then what ever will?

Do you think Epel is blind? He sees the way you freeze up and twiddle your fingers when Floyd hangs off yours shoulder, or when Rook lends you his handkerchief. Your voice goes soft and up an octave...adorable. You become a different person with others than with him. Why can't he get that response? Is he not manly enough, huh? Are people like Rook what you're attracted to? Does he need to carve your face into an apple just to make you to feel something. He'll do it. Just give him some reassurance that you're attracted to him please. My man Epel needs validation.

Epel doesn't realize that he makes you comfortable, which is why you don't fluster as much around him. Instead you feel genuine happiness from his actions...and the day he figures this truth out is when he'll hopefully stop comparing himself to others and appreciate all the gestures that are reserved just for him.

Idia Shroud

Both equally flustered and it's a nightmare

Feels like it's a social war. Have you ever seen a video of two poorly programmed AI bots having a discussion together? Yes. Now image that but with two socially awkward dorks sitting in a bedroom.

Oh the many instances of:

"So-

"So-"

"Oh I interrupted you! I'm so sorry please go-"

"No you go-"

"No you- aH"

and then you both give in and try to talk, but interrupt each other again. Therefore repeating the process. Idia has his limits. If you can't talk, and he can't talk, then what do? You both sit in a room in silence, that's what you do.

He thinks your bashfulness is cute. You're not an overbearing person, which he appreciates since it's more controlled than someone yelling in his ear *cough*Riddle*cough*. However, sometimes Idia mentally berates himself because he thinks you're flustered since something is 'wrong'. For example, his room is a mess, or he's ranting too long about a game, or you had a bad day ( to which he can't offer comfort since he is Idia).

It...is an emotional roller coaster with him to say the least.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #epel felmeir #epel felmier x reader

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vallanoux · 3 months

Text

𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚. - 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝟏, 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝟒

ps: chapter 4! it's nearly 12 pages <3

The very next day, (name) walks out of her room, feeling groggy, but well-rested enough for another day. Similar to the night prior, she doesn’t let herself think too much about her situation, and rather focuses on the present. What she wished to be nothing more than just a made up dream was real. (name) (surname) really did get transmigrated into Hazbin Hotel after being killed by an insane fan.

A shiver crawls down her spine. (name) wraps her hands around herself and squeezes her forearms tight, “you can do this… just like always. You’re known to make the best improvisations when things go wrong on stage. This is- This is nothing different from a stage gone wrong, yeah?”

(name) forces herself to believe in what little confidence she has left, and knocks on Lucifer’s bedroom door. It takes him a while to respond.

“(name), is that you?” He calls, then, in a more hushed voice meant for only him to hear, he continues, “of course it would be… Who else would it be, you idiot?”

After turning into a.. bat human? Bat demon? Eh, not too sure, and not that it matters.. But.. all of (name)’s senses had improved far beyond that of an average human. What she normally wouldn’t have heard as a human, she could hear as clear as day.

“Yes, it’s me! You promised that you’d teach me more about my powers? Is it too early? I’ll go if you still want to be alone.”

“Teaching..? Powers..?” He confusedly mutters to himself. It takes him a while to realize what (name) was talking about. The brain fog that clogged his mind constantly deteriorated his memories, barely ever letting anything sit right and firm in his mind.

Then, the door bursts open, revealing the King of Hell bearing a bright grin on his face, “I remember!”

It broke (name)’s heart to see him happy over such a small thing as remembering. Under the stress of mental fatigue, day-to-day tasks that should have come by easily no longer did. The body, because of the mind, loses its innate ability to care for itself. With a hopeless overseer, what would push its dependents to work? Nothing. Nonetheless, she musters up an encouraging expression for Lucifer, “yes, you remembered. Thank you, Lucifer.”

Pleasantly surprised that (name) hadn’t questioned his poor memory, he excitedly grabs her hand and pulls her close. He uses his powers to teleport the both of them to the rooftop of his castle.

And, there it was again. Pressed up against him and so close to the crook of his neck, she smells it. The deliciously sweet scent of musk and cinnamon apple pie that would make anyone ravenous. Heat prods at the shell of her ears, painting them rosy in color.

When they arrived, the Broadway talent hurriedly got out of Lucifer’s grasp, “and here we are!”

“That must've been too close, sorry. I got a little too excited.” He dorkily rubs the back of his head. “It’s just been a while since I’ve gone flying––or taken anyone flying!”

“It happens.” (name) stares at the vast expanse of nothingness that stretches endlessly right outside of pentagram city. There was nothing but hard, sharp, rocky stones. “Is there really nothing out there?”

“Save for a few demons who try to find peace and quiet out there, not really. It’s not livable.” Lucifer explains. “Why, you want to go there?”

“Just curious, and... would you mind using some more of your magic? I’m only wearing a nightgown and it’s very, very chilly up here.” She shivers as a gust of wind blows past her. “And not to mention, a nightgown is very unideal for flight. I might flash people.”

Lucifer looked so disappointed in himself when (name) pointed both things out. He slumps and waves his apple scepter to change her outfit into something much more comfortable. “How could I forget again? There you go.”

“What matters is that you’ve actually done it when I asked,” she tilts her head and gives Lucifer a concerned expression. “You're giving yourself standards you’re bound to fail, and that’s healthy for no one. Not everyone can notice everything.”

“You’re right. It’s just that I used to be a lot more observant, is all.” He allows himself to remain downcast for a couple more seconds, then he lets himself brighten up if only just a bit. “It's because you're that much of an important guest to me. The first guest I’ve had in ages.”

“You’re already plenty good to me.” (name) lets her wings stretch out in the wind, enjoying the feeling of air slipping and gliding across her outstretched wings. “I’m satisfied, so you don’t have to worry about it in the future.”

The Broadway talent turns around and offers him a hand, “for now, teach me how to fly!”

Eagerly, he takes her hand and brings her right to the very edge of the castle’s pointed roof––it’s highest point. “The winds are a bit strong today. Maybe we shouldn’t learn this now? We can wait until the wind is steadier. What about we learn about your other powers instead?”

(name) lifts a hand and feels the strong breeze, “I’m new to this, so I have no clue what you’re talking about. But don’t they say it’s best to learn from difficulty? Pressure either makes or breaks you, and so far, I'd say it's made me.”

“You... have a point, but still, I'm worried. Though, you sound confident in yourself, so I'll trust you. You don’t mind if I touch your wings, right?” Lucifer maneuvers to her back.

“Nope, go ahead.” (name) shrugged.

“Well, these things tend to be very sensitive. Especially on the base.” His hands glide to the tips of (name)’s wings. He pats them down, keeping them neatly folded. “Don’t leave them open when you’re walking around, you’ll bump into things easily, and air resistance will make them feel heavier.”

She shivers at the sensation of his cool fingers tracing across her wings, fixing her posture. A purr rises up her throat, but she stops it right where it starts. She wouldn't allow herself to put on such an embarrassing display. I shouldn’t let anyone touch them freely in the future. That’s dangerous.

Unaware of the Broadway talent’s inner struggles, Lucifer continues on. “There are two ways to take off depending on where you need to fly from. Ground take offs require more effort, which is why we’ll learn them later. Taking off from higher grounds is easier since the winds are stronger. Stronger winds means you can catch them easily, and glide with them. It's common to start by jumping with your wings tucked, then when you feel enough wind pushing against you, you spread your wings wide to catch the wind. Since my wings are different from yours, I don’t know much about what happens after in the air. According to the texture of your wings, I'm sure to keep yourself flying, you'll have to flap them a lot more than me. My wings are good for gliding and long flights while yours are very agile and good for sharp turns."

“Woah, Professor Lucifer~” (name) teased him. “Getting into the zone, aren’t you? You're certainly very knowledgeable.”

Lucifer’s cheeks flush at her teasing. He giggles softly and averts his gaze, “well.. I used to teach the young ones how to fly way back when. They were very cute and fuzzy little things, like ducklings!”

“That’s very sweet of you,” (name) compliments. “Now I’m very confident that you won’t let anything bad happen to me. I’m in good hands.”

For some reason, at (name)'s bold statement, Lucifer’s disposition straightens, and his lighthearted tone irons to firmness, “trust me. Nothing will happen to you when I’m here.”

He falls into silence, so she takes the time to earnestly look into his eyes, and she sees that there’s something terribly wrong. A spark of a storm whirling in his eyes, that shined and for a brief moment, looked past (name) and everything behind her.

Before she could speak up on her concerns, he broke out of his inward dilemma and held out both hands for her to take, “take my hands, (name). I’ll show you how to fly.”

She takes his hands and looks at him, waiting for more instructions, “and?”

Lucifer lets his wings show, spreading from their furled state. “I’m going to create a gust of wind for you, and you try to catch it, okay?”

He flaps his wings and a strong gust of wind blows past her. (name) stretches her wings out, attempting to catch the wind as he said she would. It came by naturally to her, as if it was second nature. A bright grin breaks onto her lips, curling up and wide onto her features. Her eyes glinted with light, the brightest Lucifer had ever seen from her–– and dear, oh dear was it an addicting expression he wishes to see more often. Wishes to be the reason of.

“I’m doing it! I’m really doing it!” She cheers brightly, her now rounded, almost childlike (e/c) eyes held at attention with Lucifer's own yellow ones.

“Yes, yes you are.” He says with such tender endearment it makes (name) freeze.

She knew well enough to know that the endearment in his voice wasn’t directly addressed to her. Rather, to someone else he used to hold so dearly. Yet, to know that she made him feel such a glimpse of such a strong, positive emotion was enough to cause the small twinge of guilt in her chest to eat her alive.

As her focus was averted away from her wings, they were left open wide, blowing her back onto the roof and pulling Lucifer down along with her. Lucifer reacts quickly. He uses his wings and wraps them around (name) and himself tightly, securing her in a protective embrace. He also places his hand behind her head and presses her head to his chest to prevent any whiplash. Lucifer, bless his sweet soul, had secured her so well as that when impact hit, it felt completely painless to (name).

Still, from all the movement and spinning, her head spun in circles and made it so that it was hard to respond properly to Lucifer, whom immediately hoisted her up and began fussing over her, checking for injuries. He looked so frightened when he was checking her, as if he’d done something terribly, criminally wrong.

His eyes shift to the Broadway talent’s. His worry dies down, replaced by a little hint of anger and a lot of exasperation. He reaches to pinch her cheek and scolds her, “(name)? Why did you stop? That was a very dangerous thing for you to do! You don’t get distracted when you’re flying unless you want to fall and die, or at least experienced enough to recover from a nasty incident.”

He locks her gaze. (name), to her own regret, quips back before she could stop herself, “well, I wasn’t the only one who was distracted.”

Her eyes widen and she immediately apologizes, “sorry, I didn’t mean that at all.”

Rather than the angered response she was expecting, Lucifer looks downcast and forlorn. “You’re right. I was stuck reliving some memories I should’ve let go by now. You’re not––you’re not who I wished you were, and it’s wrong for me to treat you like someone else just because you’re similar. It must’ve been off-putting to have someone you hardly know stare at you like that.”

His gaze meets (name)’s again, “but that still doesn’t change that you almost hurt yourself, you know?”

“I know, Lucifer. I let it get to me a bit too much.” (name) admits. “I”m sorry, for the person you lost.. Whoever it was.”

Although I already know who and why... Heaven, Lilith, Eve... how could you do this to him?

“Thank you,” he mutters. “I appreciate it. More than you know.”

“Are you this nice to me because I remind you of that person? Because if that’s the case... It’d be hard accepting what isn’t mine.” Although (name) knew her words could completely stop all the good will she would be receiving from Lucifer, it was the right thing to do. She couldn’t bear the guilt of fooling someone so extraordinarily kind like Lucifer. Like I did before…

“No, I genuinely care for you, (name).” He shakes his head. “I care for you since you’re my… first friend in decades. We’re friends, right..?”

(name) couldn’t deny the hopeful shine in his eyes, “yes, my very first friend in Hell.”

Lucifer, at that point, was nothing but sparkles and rainbows. He gives a cheer and squishes her in a very, very tight hug whilst rubbing his cheek against (name)’s. So soft.. And so very squishy.

Taking her chance, she whispered into Lucifer’s ear, "as someone with issues letting go of the past, I get you. But don’t let it eat you alive. Don’t make that mistake. Because that's what.. Landed me here. At least, I’d assume so.”

For the first time in years, (name) lets the mask fall if only for a moment; the thin veil gone, and the performance was put on break. (name) never wanted to admit it, but her career as one of the most prestigious Broadway talents had devoured her whole. Took her heart, ate it on a silver platter, shit it out and forced it right back into her mouth for her to swallow and choke on in one endless, insufferable cycle. Most her life had been nothing but a comfortable lie.

The very next second, she finds herself laughing, because really, how ironic was it that the first time she chose to be honest wasn’t when she was alive, but rather dead in Hell, and to the King of Hell himself? Who, like her, was burdened far more by his past than he would ever show.

“I’m not laughing because it’s funny. More so that I haven’t been this honest in ages.” (name)'s laugh mellows down. “It’s a nice feeling.”

“I’m glad you feel as if I’m someone you can be honest around,” Lucifer mumbles gently as he pats her back. “I try not to think about it, but it ends up being a double-edged sword since I hardly remember anything.”

“I’m sorry,” (name) whispers back. There was nothing she herself could do to change the situation, or make it any better. All she can give is a well-natured, earnest wish. “I hope it gets better.”

“It just might,” he pulls away and steals a glance at (name). “Why don’t we move on and try flying practice again? Or are you feeling unwell after the fall?”

“No, you’re right. Let’s not sour the mood.” (name) tries to get up, but right before she does lift herself, she realizes that she was in a rather precarious position with Lucifer. “Um.. Lucifer?”

She steals a glance at his wings that were still tightly wrapped around her to give him a hint. It takes a while for Lucifer to realize, but once he does... the poor man combusts. His entire face was now a similar color to his natural red circular accents on his cheek. In (name)’s fair opinion, it was absolutely adorable to see him turn all red and blushy. Really, the cutest, most adorable sight.

(name) laughs at Lucifer, who looks like he’s on the verge of fainting from embarrassment. Her laughter probes him to unwrap his wings and scramble off of her. However, still a true gentleman by nature, he offers her a hand with his gaze turned away, too flustered to look directly at into her eyes.

She takes his hand with a grin as he helps her up, “let’s practice flying, shall we?”

She only holds his hand for a brief moment before letting go. She then rushes to the top of the roof, leaving Lucifer behind, and before he could stop her, she jumps off with a large, taunting grin on her face.

“Catch me if you can!” The Broadway talent calls as she dives off the tallest point of the castle, with her wings tucked in to increase the speed of her fall.

“(name)!” Lucifer was quick on his feet, immediatley rushing off the tower and jumping after her.

His wings furl around him, and he holds an outstretched hand to catch her. His eyes narrowed, brows knitted together and his smile pressed into a thin, almost downward line, solely focussed on saving (name). And, right before she would be pierced by a large, pointed rock that would have definitely made a skewer out of her, Lucifer swoops her into his arms.

“You’re seriously the most reckless person I know! Why would you do that?” Lucifer was reasonably extremely angered.

“Because no matter what, I knew you’d catch me.” She holds his gaze with more certainty and confidence than she’s ever worn her entire life.

What looked to Lucifer as a purely reckless decision on (name)’s part was instead a purely calculated move performed by the Broadway talent meant to create this very scene––meant to reinvigorate Lucifer’s faith in himself that he could indeed protect what was important.

Struggling to find it in himself to stay angry, the corners of his lips twitch upward, “I’ll catch you, always. No matter how many times you fall.”

The fruits of both Lucifer and (name)’s labor proved to be fruitful. After (name)’s “reckless” trust fall, as Lucifer called it, she was able to properly learn how to fly.

“I’m so proud of you! You’re a natural flier for sure,” Lucifer had a cute, dopey smile on his face that egged (name)’s urges to pinch his cheeks. She looks away to refrain herself from doing as such.

“What can I say? It must be my bat instincts kicking in.” She bites into the food plated right in front of her.

The pair, noticing that it had gotten quite late, returned to the castle for dinner. That day, from morning until late, had been filled with nothing but flying, obviously tiring out (name). On the other hand, Lucifer claimed to be completely full and surprisingly, energized.

“Demons don’t need to eat. I’m curious why you’re hungry, actually.” He gazes at her plate with interest. “But what you cooked definitely looks delicious.”

“Because it is delicious.” (name) proudly grins. “A recipe my friend shared with me back from Earth.”

“Ah, how wonderful,” he rests his chin on his hands, keeping his attention on me. “Do you also want to learn about your other powers today? Or another?”

“No, today is good. It’d be nice to get everything out of the way first. But.. How are we going to do that? Aren’t my powers just something I figure out along the way? I heard experiencing mentally stressful situations would urge someone to figure out their powers. That’s what the book said in the library!”

“The book isn’t wrong,” Lucifer nervously chuckles. “But it is oddly a very scary way to find out your own powers. Instead, I can just do it for you with my magic.”

“Wait, really? You can do that?” She looks at Lucifer with big eyes.

“(name), you seem to forget that it’s the King of Hell you’re talking to. Of course I can do it!” He crosses his arms and puffs his chest proudly.

You literally can’t blame me. You’re so dorky, so cute, so squishy, so mushy, so AAAA- (name) takes a deep breath to stop her inner dialogue and to mask her rather questionable thoughts, she stuffs her face with more of her own cooking.

“Well, you don’t exactly radiate that energy, do you? You’re very cute.”

“M- Me? I’m cute?”

“Totally.”

Lucifer takes off his hat and buries his face in it, letting out muffled whines, “you can’t say that to me!”

“But I can.” (name) leans in closer. “Cause you’re my friend now.”

“I regret it already.” He groans.

“Aww, no you love me.” She coos in return, which causes Lucifer to bury his head further into his hat. The poor snake that was wrapped around his hat slithered off, questioningly booping Lucifer to see if he was alright. “See? My point stands both here and in court.”

“Aghhh!” Lucifer slumps and completely goes still.

(name) looked at him with a raised brow, “you good?”

“Fine..” He manages to get out. He straightens his back and wears his hat again, finished recollecting himself. “Just give me your hand and I can already tell what type of magic you have.”

Thinking nothing of it, the Broadway talent reaches her hand over the table. What she least expected to happen, happened. Lucifer takes her hand and intertwined his fingers in between hers, pressed his palm against her own and gently squeezed her hand. He proceeds to pull her closer to himself.

“Two can play at this game.” He looks at me with a half lidded gaze, the edges of his lips curled up into a devious, taunting smirk.

“Oh, you devil.” (name) lifts up her other hand to hide her face and casts her glance aside.

“I quite literally am, amicus meus,” he giggles and he gives my hand another squeeze, which he proceeds to let go seconds after. “Okay, I know your powers now.”

“Really? You weren’t.. completely messing around?” (name) lifts her gaze cautiously, afraid she’d be duped again.

“Really. And by the looks of it, you have interesting powers! Much like that of a demon.. So it almost makes me wonder more than anything else how you even have divinity in you in the first place. And it’s even more curious that you don’t know the answer-”

(name) finds Lucifer’s tendency to ramble extremely endearing. She waits until he finishes before she says her piece, “I know, it’s a little weird. Though, could you tell me about my powers, please? I’m curious”

“Oh, right! That! So, to sum it up, you should have all the powers of a bat. Like echo-location, night vision and the like. I’m also quite surprised to see this since most demons don’t have magic, but you do. Get well acquainted with shadows, (name). I’m certain you won’t regret it.”

“Shadows?” (name) curiously tilts her head.

“It seems to me that you can hide in them and communicate? I’m not quite sure how the latter half works since shadows aren’t sentient, but I’m sure you’ll figure that bit out by yourself. You’re a smart person.” Lucifer gives an expectant smile. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. Thanks Lucifer.” (name) nods her head in understanding.

She finishes the last bits of food and takes the emptied plate. Lucifer gives her a questioning look, “what are you doing?”

“Cleaning the plate..?”

“I can just do that with magic.”

“Oh.” She sets the place down. “Then could you please..?”

“Sure thing.” With a wave of his adorable apple scepter, the plate is now out of sight. He taps the table and he straightens up as a new thought pops up in his head, “we should get you some clothes, (name)! Let’s go shopping tomorrow?”

“And with what money?” The Broadway talent raises a brow, giving Lucifer an odd look.

“My money! Again, being friends with the King of Hell has its benefits~” he says in a sing-song tone of voice as he flashes me another charming smirk. “I have wealth and connections.”

“If you say so,” (name) returns an exasperated but grateful glance. “I’ll go test out my powers now, so I’ll see you next thing in the morning?”

“Yep, I’ll just jot it down so I remember.” Lucifer approaches her and looks at her expectantly.

“Yes?” (name) raises a brow.

“A goodnight hug.” Lucifer goes on his tiptoes and pulls (name) into a tight, warm hug. “From a friend, to a friend.”

She buries her face in the crook of his neck and gives him a quick tight squeeze before pulling away. I could never get used to your warmth, Lucifer. But it means more to me than you’ll ever know.

“Yes, from a friend to a friend.”

11.7 pages

4,094 words

status: edited

Notes:

i don't know why, but i sort of headcannon luci speaking latin? also GUYSSS LUCI KNOWS HE'S HOTTTT!!! LOOK AT THIS SHOT FROM EP. 8!!!

next chapter is luci's pov

#lucifer magne x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #alastor x reader x lucifer #hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #alastor #radio demon #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader

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miyaur · 1 year

Text

𝄞 — pantalone, tartaglia/childe (gn reader) — ❝ oh dear harbinger~! ❞

summary: oh dear harbinger, no need to be such a brat! oh dear harbinger, no need to be so coy, you know you want it!

a/n: i put more effort towards fics than schoolwork, hope i don't fail my mom, but oh well, writing fixes everything! aa happy 300 followers though :D!!

warnings: nsfw, brat tamer!reader, degrading kink (both have it), sub!character, strap/dick mentioned, dacryphilia (childe), seperate fics btw :)

sub!pantalone does love to disturb your work quite often. but how could he not when you touched him so good? made him feel like he was in heaven, but today, he wanted to make you jealous, so you'd show him his place, he wanted that feeling of you telling him how much of a brat he's been. the way his name slips of your lips makes him hard, he wants you to punish him for how naughty of a boy he's been.

he missed the way you sucked on his tits, the way you kissed his stress away, made him want to forbid his little challenge, but so desperate for you to touch him like no oned did. but the way you didn't seem to bat an eye when he flirted with a certain secretary you didn't like. but 2 can play the jealousy game; you even talking to, especially flirting with anyone other than him, especially when you're flirting with dottore

all he could do was bitch and moan about it, he didn't wanna lose to you at this game, he knew you were just playing around when it came to talking with the doctor, but why did it make him angry, why did it actually make him jealous? no.. he wasn't ACTUALLY jealous?? he knew you did this to make him feel like this, but he already knew that, why did it still piss him off?

damnit he couldn't let you piss him off! he'll get your attention for sure, right? aghh!! he can't let you get to him, but why aren't you budging? don't you hate it when he talks to a different person? especially when he flirts with them? in his office, trying to clear out paperwork and meet up with you tonight, made his head hurt, he really needed you now, "you finished yet, handsome?" you ask leaning on the back of his chair, he gasps in shock, "oh! y-you.." he says trying to cover his red toned face, he finally surrendered, "oh dear harbinger," kissing him on the forehead, "i'll treat you good alright, nasty slut? don't worry my little whore, you'll be cumming in your pants before you know it."

the way you've been pounding him for hours, on his own desk too, paperwork long gone and forgotten, covered in his drool, and cum. whining as you continued to bite on his neck, the feeling was so addicting. making him choke on your fingers, made him feel more special, the marks you've left on him will always only be left by you, the bulge in his tummy is the imprint of your strap/dick will always be left by you, he'll only ever forfeit to you.

sub!childe is seriously loved you, the prettiest mf ever too, but not prettier when he cries of how good you pound him. but he didn't wanna seem so needy in front of you. he didn't wanna seem so pathetic in front of his amazing partner?? but he literally loves how much you paint his stomach with white, he wants your help but won't ask for it.

he literally has had to physically resist himself from talking to you about his little problem. being so eager to touch himself, but no one really can rub him better than you can! but at the same time he really needs something to relieve the recent stress of a new mission that he'd just finished. he needed nothing more than a good pounding

but ohh anything and everything about you he loved, and turned him on, to be honest, if you even fucked him in his sleep he probably wouldn't mind and would encourage you ngl, call him anything, a slut, a cheap whore? anything! being your baby is his speciality, but nevertheless even if it was him being called a pet, he'd be so ready to get on all fours and lick your shoes.

why did you have to strip tease him like this though??? he tries his best to impress you, but all he really did was becomeore submissive towards you, your piercing gaze of alight enjoyment and the look of 'is he done trying?', did his efforts really not budge you even a bit? maybe, just pity points

"you really needed this didn't you? 50$ whore aren't you? but- only for me, isn't that right?" you justified, childe drooling, you bending him over a nearby desk once his attempts of dominance were over, what a week.. anyways happy birthday to my momma!!!!

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adobe-outdesign · 5 months

Note

Will your review neopets the same way you review Pokémon? Will you review the beloved. The Korbat.

(I have a few requests for Neopet reviews, so I'll be mixing these in with the Pokemon reviews based on request order.

Neopets are different than Pokemon because you have the base color, which is usually pretty plain, and then dozens upon dozens of paint brush colors. I can't possibly review all the colors in one sitting, so I'll instead just review the base and pick out three of my favorites for that species. If you guys want a specific species + color combo, you can mention it in the requests or request afterward.

Also, no character reviews either, just the pets themselves. Characters can also be requested separately if it's something you guys would be interested in.)

Korbats are—you're not going to believe this—bats. They're fairly standard as far as bats go, but they do have the interesting addition of a long tail, something bats aren't exactly known for. What's really cool is that they use this tail to hang upside-down with, which feels like something bats would do if they did have tails:

(Side note: I love them hanging off the circle like this, but weirdly enough only two unconverted colors had this pose instead of the standard circle pose—not even non-standard body type colors either. Weird.)

I really like how Korbats are white by default, instead of the standard bat black. It gives the basic colors a nice pop of color instead of just making the entire body a single color the way most species of Neopets do. Yellow and red are especially good in this regard because the wing color is accented by the feet and ears respectively.

However, something about Korbats never quite clicked with me personally if I'm being honest, even though I love bats. I think the reason is the face—bats have very distinct noses and sometimes fox-like muzzles, depending on species, but Korbats have Kacheek-like faces and something about them feels kind of generic.

I think conversion doesn't help with this. Korbats benefited from conversion in the sense that their art was very old and dated, but things like adding eyebrows and making the eyes bigger and less dot-like looses something, even if it's technically more in-line with other Neopets. Also, putting the ears behind the heads was a big mistake—now their foreheads look gigantic. Not to say the converted version is bad or anything, as the art itself is a big upgrade, but those subtle tweaks throw it a bit.

Favorite colours:

Candy: I absolutely adore this color. It feels like an apology letter for the Halloween Korbat, which I always thought was pretty mid for the Neopet probably most associated with the color. The candy corn concept is great and the execution is perfect, with the tri-colored wings and tail.

Maraquan: Manta ray! Absolutely perfect concept and a great execution. Love the touch of bubbles under the "wings" to break up an otherwise plain design and help further convey the underwater aspect.

Relic: Another fantastic concept, and they went the extra mile by giving it an extra fierce expression. I also love how weathered the stone looks.

#neopets #neotag #korbat #neopet reviews

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ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 14

Steve to the rescue again. Eddie is having a horrible week.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

When Steve came home that night, Robin was waiting for him on their couch.

“Hey, Robs,” he greeted warmly. “How was work?”

“Crystal is working out great, he’s got flare,” she said with a grin. “Like you, but different. He had us in stitches during clean up.”

Steve smiled. “I’ll miss you guys.”

Robin’s grin slid into something more dear. “Me too. But I get why you want to get the hell out of Dodge.”

Steve went to the fridge to get them a couple of sodas. When you can get your booze for free, you tend to have other kinds drinks around the house instead.

He handed her one and flopped down next her. “I talked to Mrs Byers and I’m pretty sure I’m going to ace the class. So guess who is graduating, baby?”

Robin squealed. “Yes! I guess Eddie was your lucky charm.”

Steve blushed.

“I didn’t see your painting when I came home,” she said slyly. “Is there a reason you didn’t bring it home?”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Shit! I left in the car!” He scrambled out the door and was back in under a minute panting.

“Thank fuck it wasn’t too hot today,” he said between breathes. “Otherwise I would have started bawling.”

Robin held out grabby hands. “I want to see!”

Steve turned it around and handed the canvas to her.

“Holy shit, Steve!” she whispered. “This is really good. Like art gallery good.”

He blushed. “It’s just an assignment. It isn’t a big deal.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” she gushed. “You should submit this to the art show for graduating seniors.”

Steve opened his mouth for some excuse, but he didn’t have any. Not really. “Yeah. I’ll let Mrs Byers know.”

Robin handed the painting back and he set gently to the side.

“So what did you and Eddie do...?” she asked with a wink and then her face twisted. “If you had sex I don’t want to know that. Ew.”

Steve laughed. “How did you know I was with Eddie?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because there is no one else that you would play hooky for other than me and I since I worked, the only logical conclusion was Eddie.”

Steve’s face was nearly split in two by the grin that comment induced. “Fair enough. He had a nasty ex show up after class today and it really shook him up.”

Robin pushed his shoulder. “Fuck, dingus. You don’t know how to play fair, do you? I can’t make fun of something like that. Bastard.”

He huffed out a small laugh. “And then he wanted me to listen to some of the songs he’d been writing.”

She giggled and clapped her hands. “Anymore of them about you?”

Steve shook his head. “At least none of the ones he played for me sounded like they were about me. Not like the last one.”

Robin sighed. “Maybe they’re love songs and he’s not ready for you to hear him declare his undying love for you yet.”

He blushed. “He just so amazing, Robs. He deserves every good thing in this world and he just can’t seem to get there. And it’s pissing me off.”

“I know, sweetie,” she said. “I know.”

Steve and Robin walked out of their apartment the next day to see a bunch of guys surrounding Eddie.

“Call 911,” he hissed. “I’ll try to keep them busy until the cops arrive.”

Robin’s eyes were wide, but she nodded bravely.

Steve strolled toward the group with a goofy smile on his face. “Hey there, boys. I don’t think I’ve seen you guys around here before.”

The ring leader was a tall, broad-shouldered, good looking man with blond hair. The kind of person Steve would have hung out with in high school. But this was long past that.

They all turned to him and a chill went down Steve’s spine. Some of them had baseball bats and one of the had a tire iron.

And Eddie was in the middle looking terrified.

“Just keep walking,” the ringleader sneered. “We’ve got some business with the Freak here.”

The name sent a second, more dangerous chill down Steve’s spine. The Freak was what they called Eddie in high school. Because he was always out, loud, and proud and made sure it was everyone’s problem.

And then it hit him. He knew who the ringleader was. Fuck.

“Jason Carver, right?” Steve asked, goofy smile still plastered to his face.

Jason was a year behind Steve in high school at a rival school. Dude was so good he had made basketball team captain his junior year.

The ringleader turned further from Eddie to take a better look at Steve.

“Holy fuck!” Jason cursed. “Steve Harrington!”

Steve’s smile turned into a feral grin. “Oh good, you do remember me. And you’ll know that I’m famous for stopping what you’re about to do.”

“Steve!” Robin cried. “Catch!”

Steve’s hand came up and when it came back down everyone was staring at the bat now in his grasp. The top of it had been decorated with nails.

“I take this to Pride every year,” Steve said casually, like he was talking about the weather. “It’s my anti-homophobe bat. It’s a great deterrent for assholes like you.”

He twirled it around, warming up his wrist. “So are you going to walk away or are you boys going to be introduced to Hela?”

Jason looked at his friends and then back at Steve. “There are five of us and only one of you, you really think you can take all of us?”

Steve smiled warmly. “Of course not, I just have to keep you busy until the cops show up.”

Jason’s friends started to mutter to themselves.

Jason scoffed. “You didn’t have time to call the cops.”

Steve batted his eyelashes innocently at Jason. “I’ve never said I did. Robin called them while we were talking.”

They started to look at each other worryingly.

“And if I know Eddie,” Steve continued, “he’s hit the emergency button on his cell phone so that the cops have a recording you threatening to jump me with your buddies.”

Jason sneered. “I think you’re bluffing.” His friends didn’t look convinced.

“Hey, man,” one of the said, putting a hand on Jason’s arm, “if they did call the cops we need to get out of here.”

“Pussy,” Jason sneered, pulling away from him and grabbing the tire iron from him. “I’ll handle this myself.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “I’m going so wreck that pretty face of yours Carver.”

Jason snarled like a cornered animal, full of rage and fear. He leapt forward swinging the iron like a club, all brute force and no finesse.

Steve loosened the muscles in his neck as Jason swung wildly passed where Steve had been previously, having stepped deftly to the side.

“That’s not the way you swing, you moron,” he heckled. “Maybe you should have taken some baseball with your basketball like I did.” Steve swung and tapped the back of Jason’s jacket. Not hard enough to actually hurt him, but enough that Jason stumbled as he was off balance because of his swing.

Jason fought to stay on his feet, but managed to whirl around to face Steve.

“You want to try again?” Steve asked, brightly.

Jason charged at him again and again Steve side stepped him, tapping him on the back as he passed.

Then there was the bee-whoop of a cop car pulling up. The four other guys pushed at each other in panic as they tried to run. But they ran straight into the arms of the waiting officers.

“Just put down the weapons, boys,” a big burly man said into his megaphone.

Steve laughed. “I’d love to, Chief Hopper. But I’mma gonna wait until he puts his down first.”

Hopper sighed so loud Steve could hear it without it being amplified by the megaphone.

“Harrington, I should have known,” Hopper croaked into the megaphone. “You! The other one.” Jason turned to him in shock at being called ‘the other one’. “I’d best be putting that tire iron down, before Steve decides you’re not worth the effort and flattens your face right quick.”

Jason looked back at Steve and then to Hopper. He slowly put the iron down. Steve did the same to his bat and kicked it behind him, where Robin ran to pick it up.

Jason held up his hands and slowly stood up. One of the deputies came running up and handcuffed him.

“You’re going to pay for this, Munson!” Jason snarled.

Eddie waved from where he was at Robin’s side, having dashed over there while the idiots were watching Jason and Steve fight.

They had to call Diamond and let him know they would be late. Eddie tried to call Joyce, but Hopper put a hand over his phone and gently lowered it.

“I’ve already let her know, son,” Hopper told him. “She says she’ll cancel classes for the rest of the week, if you need.”

Eddie shook his head. “Jus–just for today.”

Hopper nodded. “You take care, all y’all.”

Once their statements had been taken and they were allowed to leave, Steve put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “If you need me to call in again, I will.”

Eddie shook his head. “You still need to pay rent, Stevie. I’ll hang out with Uncle Wayne today.”

Steve grinned. “Good plan, nothing beats a tire iron like a mechanic’s wrench.”

Eddie grinned back. “I like the way you think, sweetheart.”

Steve pushed his shoulder. “Go on. Some of us have to work for our living.”

Eddie laughed and walked to his van, Steve shaking his head as he watched him go.

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1 @scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity @maya-custodios-dionach @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @heaven428 @thedragonsaunt @ceaselessly-watching @imfinereallyy @messrs-weasley @sharingisntkaren

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #art school au #gay steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #ladykailtiha writes

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elysianhades · 9 months

Note

Hi! I would like to request mammon x mc fluff. Maybe something like a painting date where you pass the canvases back and forth? Up to you, but just some mammon please!!!

Here you go! Thank you so much for requesting! I hope this is acceptable!

I haven't ever written Mammon before so hopefull he isn't too ooc

Somplace Only We Know

Mammon x Mc

Downy Fluff ahead!

“What’s the point in this again?” Mammon asks, watching you pull out the pencils and sketchbooks out of the bag you brought with you.

It was a smart decision on your part, for you both to ‘sneak’ to the human realm. If any of the other brothers knew about this little date the two of you had planned, you knew they would try to sabotage it, but seriously, you put too much effort in this outing for it to be spoiled by pouting demon lords. You both were sitting on a beach, a bluff actually, if you wanted to get technical. It was nice, being in weather that wasn’t actively trying to kill you. The Devildom is nice, but being able to wander around and not be sweating a concerning amount or literally bundled up is something you will never take for granted again.

“My older brother and I used to play a game like this when we were younger, granted I was 5 and he was terrible at drawing, but I also used to do this before I went to the Devildom, it helps warm up skills. Besides, I wanted to spend time with you and what better way than by doing this? It’s fun I swear!” You laugh, nudging the demon next to you with your knee.

“I trust ya, precious. It’s not everyday the Great Mammon has time off ya know? Imma very busy demon, I’m sure whatever ya planned is gonna be entertain’.” He boasts, chuckling and puffing his chest out.

You roll your eyes lovingly, a small smile on your lips as you flip one of the sketchbooks to an open page. For all the comments he was making on the way here, he did seem like he was looking forward to this and he did look like he was enjoying himself.

“Here you go, oh Great Mammon.” You tease, watching Mammon’s ears flush a rosy red when he meets your eyes and sees your smiling face. You swear you see his eyes dart between your eyes and lips once or twice before he carefully takes the offered book out of your hands. He taps his fingers on the cover as he looks around at the mini picnic you had set up. He swallows and looks at the open sketchbook on his lap, quickly flipping through the other pages, not looking at the art there but seeing how much of the book is filled.

“Ya know, one day ya should show me all the sketchbooks ya have. I’d… I’d like ta see what else you’ve made.” He quickly says, looking at you out of the side of his eye. His cheeks now are a little more colorful than they were a second ago.

“If you want to see my older art you can, be warned though, I wasn’t always as adept as I am now,” You snort at his attempt to sound nonchalant, when he is practically vibrating with the want to peek through the book in his hands, “also be warned that there are sketches of you in there.” You add on almost as an afterthought, looking at him head on to catch his reaction.

It takes a couple seconds for your statement to actually register, but you can tell when it did. His eyes widened a tiny bit and his jaw unclenched before the red covered his face and he was choking on nothing. His head whipped over to you as he tried to catch his breath and at this point you were struggling to breathe as well because you were trying not to laugh at him. It was a funny concept to you though, how he could get pictures taken of himself all the time in different positions and not bat an eye but the thought of a few messy drawings are enough to derail any thoughts in his head.

“Well- ah- I mean, of course ya have sketches of me in here, I’m pretty great aren’t I.” He coughs, clearing his throat and looking away from you to try and regain his composure, “seriously though treasure, ya have ta warn me before ya say sappy things like that. Oi! Wait! I better be the only one who you’ve drawn! My brothers better not be in here as well! Just me! I’m yer first after all!”

You chuckle and shake your head as you pull another (almost full) sketchbook out of your bag. This one probably has two or three more pages in it until it’s full, you figured now would be the best time to finish it. You hum as you turn your shoulder so the flustered demon next to you can see the contents of the book. There are a lot of drawings of sceneries around RAD, the castle, even the House of Lamentation, but if the few drawings of people that could be seen, they were all different poses and styles of Mammon doing different things.

Mammon counting grimm, Mammon talking to one of the crows that always follow him around, him grabbing the popcorn bowl from a movie night, him mid-stretch, and so many workshops of his hands in different positions and holding different things. What can you say? He has some attractive hands. You hear a strange dying noise from right beside you. A noise you know is his ‘I don’t know whether to feel giddy or be embarrassed’ he’s made it enough times for you to know what it means.

“Come on, let’s start! I’m going to set a timer on my phone for 15 minutes! During those 15 minutes I want you to draw what you see, could be the beach, could be the water, could be the sky, it doesn't matter. After the timer is up, we are gonna switch books and I’ll continue what you are drawing and you’ll continue mine! I think we should do this two or three times just to be safe. You can use any of the pencils here, anything I’ve brought is free range! Have at it. Do you need some time to think of something to draw or should I start the timer now?” You explain, bouncing lightly, excited to start.

It takes a minute for Mammon to find his words again, but eventually he is able to form a coherent sentence. He looks at the jar full of different colored pencils you have sitting on the blanket, at the pens that are being held together by a rubber band, and finally at the scene around him.

“Yeah, I think I got somethin. Jus no peekin til the time’s up!”

“Ok then! I’m starting the timer!” You cheer, pressing the ‘start’ button on your phone and get to drawing.

The thought to draw Mammon does cross your mind, for multiple reasons, but as soon as those thoughts appear you brush them away, you think he would combust if he saw that right out of the gate. The place that you decided to sit for this date is a bit of a walk away from the trail you had to take to get here. The way to get to this particular bluff was a tiny bit of a walk but it was worth it. Normally, you would park on the side of the road and then walk through the trail to the beach, but since magic was a thing, you were able to teleport right to where the trail through the forest meets the ocean. The beach looks like it's separated into two parts, there's a sandy side where driftwood is littered all over the sand, some pieces so big that people who have visited before have made little forts out of them, broken seashells are scattered throughout the beach as well, sandbars, old sand dollars, huge clumps of seaweed and crab shells are in sight as well.

The other side of the beach is where you both haven’t gotten to look at yet, but it has rocks covered in barnacles everywhere. The rocks are practically on top of eachother, and you can’t even see the sand without having to move rocks. You also know however, that if you lift up the little rocks, that you’ll see tiny crabs. If you guys are lucky, you might even be able to see a sea snail. You hum, since it is the first round, you decide to draw something easy. You start sketching the part of the beach that meets the forest, with all the driftwood and the trees.

As you start getting into your drawing, you hear Mammon start muttering to himself, he is talking too quietly for you to hear what he is saying. Angling your body towards him, you can see he is hunched over to ensure you couldn’t see what he is drawing. His tongue is poking out of his lips in concentration, and every now and then he’ll look at what he has on the paper hum, then nod before getting back to drawing. Smiling, you go back to your own piece, relieved that he is enjoying himself. Before you know it, your phone is going off, signaling that it’s time to switch books.

“Now remember human, no judgin’!” Mammon all but shouts, hiding the book to his chest and mock-glaring at you.

“Yeah, how about we make a deal then? I won’t judge yours and you won’t judge mine? We’re doing this for fun anyway, it’s not like I’m gonna grade you on it.” You smile, making grabby hands at his book. He grumbles before slowly handing the sketch and the pencil over to you. You are much more enthusiastic about trading with him.

Both you and Mammon are still as you look over each other’s work. You can’t imagine why he thinks you would judge him for what he has done so far, it looks so good. He chose to draw the scene in front of both of you, with the water, the islands in the back, and the sun in the middle of the sky. The lines are good and you can clearly see what he was drawing. He also whistles when he is done looking at yours.

“Wow, baby, ya sure are talented. Like actually, this is damn good.” Mammon praises, smiling as he looks over it one more time. He held up the book so he could see the comparison side-to-side. You feel heat rush up to your face and ears and try to hide your face by grabbing your phone to start the timer over and clearing your throat to swallow the giddy embarrassment you feel. “You’re telling me that? Honey, you should have told me you could draw, we would’ve done this sooner.” You say, determined to fluster him as well and make him know he is talented. God knows he isn’t told enough.

Your compliment works, he chokes again and whips his head over to you. His eyes are searching yours, you can tell he is trying to see if you are teasing him or making fun of him. You tilt your head and look at him, giving him a smile. When he finds no trace of a lie in your words, you can see a sheepish smile break across his face. He slowly reaches over to grab your hand, giving you time to move yours away if you didn’t want him to hold it.

“Yer the best thing to happen to me treasure,” he starts, pausing and looking back over to the beach and the picnic you set up when you first got here. “I know I don’t say it as much as I should, but ya really mean everything to me.”

“You might not be able to say it as often as you want, but you show me everyday how much I mean to you and that’s more than enough. I love you, Mammon.” You smile, squeeze his hand as you talk. You sigh and look down at the sketchbook in your lap. “We have a tiny problem, honey.”

“Yeah? What?” He looks around to see if he can see what you are referring to. He doesn’t notice anything that could have dampened your mood, and you don’t look unhappy. You tsk and lightheartedly shake his hand still in yours.

“I don’t want to draw anymore, I just want to focus on you.” You don’t mind how warm your face feels being this vulnerable, you know you’re safe with Mammon here.

He snorts at your confession, shaking his head and squeezing your hand. He grabs both books and closes them before putting them back in your bag with the pencils. He carefully pulls you into his chest and shifts so you can lean on him comfortably. He promptly ignores his own blush as he holds you.

“Well, we are here for the whole day, I’m sure we can get back to drawin’ after ya get yer cuddling fix out of the way. An I love ya too by the way, more than anythin’.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #fanfic #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #om! mammon #obey me x reader #one shot #fluff #uhhh yeah thats it

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feefymo · 1 month

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For the angst game, "you scare me" for james or jimmy?

tw: mention of sex and violence. Discrimination. a/n: hoping you'll enjoy my choice, doll! -It's about time you joined us, Y/N!- -Linette and I had a bet and, damn, I lost! You are really here, in the flesh! - -By the way: where is Linette?- you asked, sipping from a straw so as not to ruin your lipstick. Alice gestured to the door with her eyes. - So you're no longer a… woman of the world? In short, do you no longer have fun with the beautiful hunks that fall at your feet? - -Maybe she wants to try something different.- -She doesn't get married anymore, anyway. We all know that.- There were times when you couldn't stand having to share the farmyard with those chicks. You often avoided events like this and eventually met them individually. This time, however, you had decided to participate but you wouldn't go too far with your supposed friends. The more they teased you, the more you smiled plasticly or smoothed the skirt of your black dress with small, lilac flowers. Margareth, or maybe Barb, was about to ask you a question when Linette came out with a stupid expression and a drunken walk. Except that she hadn't yet drunk, therefore, she was altered by very different sensations. You didn't have time to show curiosity when Alice invited you with a mischievous gesture. It was your turn.

Without batting an eyelid, you got up from the chair and greeted the perfect wives with a flirtatious gait and from there, the change of atmosphere was such that you felt like you were in another house. In another city, even. The soft light was streaming as if on a poker game but there was no sign of playing cards. A silhouette soon became clear to your eyes but not lying on the bed as you had anticipated. He had his back to you and he was looking out the window; you had been so cautious that that man with "magical powers" only realized your presence when you let out a light cough. At first he turned quickly - so much so that his honey curls bounced in unison - then he recovered the minimum composure required and put on a languid but strong-willed expression. While his gaze painted you as one does on fences, you observed him carefully and noticed how simple it was for him to bring a summer morning into a rainy afternoon like that. It felt good, you couldn't deny it. Beautiful with an elusive beauty, which you fear will disappear with the end of the warm months. How could his face embody the august sun and, at the same time, bring refreshment? His irises were the color of liqueur peat. The perfect nose, the lips that reminded you of cherry indigestion. The more you studied it, the more a sense of corrosion clung to the walls of your stomach.

-Jimmy Darling, at your service.- he introduced himself -Don't worry, doll. Come closer, don't be afraid… I'm here to make you feel good. Don't you want a taste of summer?- he found you attractive, you could tell from the glittering expression and the way he tilted his head. Easy-going, golden, with a rebellious air… he took a step. And so you did. One, two, three. A breath away from him, you reached for his hands but he kept them in his pockets. They were the highlight, you could swear. -What if I liked winter?- you teased, spelling into his half-open mouth. It gave off a nostalgic fragrance of decidedly ripe fruit and you smelled it thoroughly so that he would give in and show the gifts that the Lord had given him. Eager to touch you, he wasn't such a disciplined prostitute after all. Before going around him, you disheveled him. Soon after, you loosened the hairstyle and used the headband to tie the claws behind his back. Jimmy made a dry, guttural noise, you could hear the satisfaction in the grain of his voice and against the fly of his trousers, once you came face to face with him.

-The ladies present here say that you work miracles.- -Well… - Jimmy held back, putting his jaw forward. - … I'm certainly not a creature of God. - then, you remained silent and stared at him. The breathing that came together with that of Mr. Darling but for probably different reasons. -Indeed. You're not.- Your face had suddenly changed. Now arctic and glowering, it gave Jimmy an idea of what you would do next: without warning, you spit in his eye. He couldn't have mistaken the gesture for something erotic because contempt took hold of your features. -You're just God's waste, Jimmy Darling.- you added in a sharp voice. For his part, Jimmy was an impulsive and proud young man, so he tried to free himself not without difficulty. -What is this, a joke? An… erotic fantasy of yours or something? I don't like it.- It was when he found himself on the verge of tearing off your hair band that you pointed a Swiss army knife at his abdomen. -You don't have to like it. If you're good, I'll pay double.- you motioned for him to kneel in front of the bed, hissing: -Monsssster.- but Jimmy hesitated. He was furious: his cheeks on fire and a vein pumping angrily in the middle of his forehead. Yet, he knew his position in there and so did you. That's why you laughed when you saw him reeling in his anger. -Do you want to bring more money to your mommy? So behave like a good abomination and don't protest. You are just an object. Maybe useful, if I don't look at yourself in your entirety. Anyway, you won't caress me. You won't even touch me. You shook both hands of the Demon and he fused yours. - The Lobster Boy, forced to suppress the constant humiliation, was hitting rock bottom that day. He panted as he stared at the toes of your designer shoes and craved alcohol with all his heart. The gush of bile that rose up his throat was of no consequence. When he slowly looked back at you, you had taken a seat on the mattress. Sitting with your legs apart, you slowly pulled up your wide skirt. Planting a heel in the middle of his forehead you pushed so that the mark remained. In this regard, Jimmy did not shy away and, in fact, pushed himself to the point of injuring himself.

-At least you got a beautiful face so now you'll eat my cunt. And you better do it very well. - the young circus performer groaned in frustration, his teeth creaking from the vice in which they were forced. A few seconds passed before Jimmy felt a dull burning sensation. You had slapped him and he understood that he had to humor you. Moistening his dry lips in vain, he began to bend between your thighs. He pinned you down with his eyes wide open, trembling with fury.

-You scare me.- -I said: lick. Me.-

#evan peters #american horror story #evan peters fanfic #evan peters characters #jimmy darling #ahs freakshow #angst game

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midnightsun-if · 2 months

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AHHHHHHHH!!! I LOVE Scarlett, can we get a little hangout with solane and or cyra? Btw love the story I can’t wait to explore the ROs and cry myself to sleep with both happy and sad tears!

“You need to stop fidgeting or I’m never going to get this done right.” It’s a light admonishment, airy in tone but still having a steely undercurrent. “It’s making this rather easy task quite tedious.”

Hazel eyes roll skyward. “Your propensity for perfection continues to baffle me, princess.”

“And your propensity to fidget perplexes me in return. That makes us even.”

Chuckling lowly, Sloane takes note of the almost delicate way that slender fingers hold his own. He didn’t have to look back at her face to know that Scarlett was concentrating completely and, if this simple act didn’t mean the world to him, Sloane would laugh at the absurdity of it all, more than his earlier chuckle; Scarlett Voltaire, a woman that could bring people to their knees without trying, is painting his nails with upmost precision and care, taking the rather rudimentary task and shifting it into something else.

Something more.

What that more is? Sloane wouldn’t be able to tell you. He’s never been the best at all the emotional bullshit that having close relationships cause, which is probably why Scarlett had gotten to him so quickly. She didn’t expect anything from him, barely batted an eye to his sharp words, all she wanted was him— even if that meant taking on all the broken pieces that came with such a want.

“Who cares if I get knicked along the way, fur-brain?” Scarlett had once said when Sloane had finally broken, finally let the years of anger flow from his chest to the deep seated pain harbored within. As he let his fear out into the open. Worried that she wouldn’t wish to stay friends with him when she realized all of the damaged pieces she’d have to handle while doing so. “Didn’t you know? Vampires don’t mind a bit of blood.”

It’s the singular moment that cemented the vampire princess into his life— a moment that he’d forever cherish.

“What color?” Scarlett’s question pulls him from his thoughts, emerald eyes flickering with gentle amusement, as if she understood where his mind had wandered off to, but wasn’t going to press, she never did, and a ghost of a smile quirking full lips. “We can go for a lovely shade of lilac, if you’d like? Or a deep burgundy?” Her smile widens into a grin. “How about the absolutely exquisite hot pin—”

“Don’t even finish that,” Sloane huffs out, flexing his fingers, the shimmering clear coat catching in the light. “You know what color I want. It’s the color I always want.”

Scarlett shakes her head, a bottle of the very shade next to her thigh. “Black it is.” Angling her head, she offers Sloane an arched brow. “Certain you don’t want to try a different color this time?”

It’s something she always asked, even though she knew the answer, as it gave Sloane a moment to choose for himself, to escape the cycle of what was comfortable vs. what he actually wants. He’s never given it much thought before, as black was definitively his color, but look at Scarlett now, as she began to prepare to put on the first coat, something in his chest twisted and he found himself speaking.

“Actually—” Green eyes meet his own hazel. “Do you think we could try a different one?”

Something warm sparkles deep within Scarlett’s gaze, her voice softening. “Of course.” She caps the polishes bottle and twists to grab whatever shade he wanted. “What color?”

Sloane ducks his head slightly, still making sure he maintained eye contact. “Could we try green?”

#midnight sun #asks #ro: scarlett voltaire #ro: sloane addams #midsun: snippets

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your-divine-ribs · 6 days

Text

Ice Cold Part 15

Words: 2.4k

Lyla finds out more about Van’s past 💙

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

"I owe you my life Lyla."

Raj's voice was filled with an appreciative kind of awe that made me squirm in my seat. I was uncomfortable enough visiting him as it was, I hated hospitals, but the praise he kept heaping on me just made things worse.

"You'd have done the same for me, any of us would have," I replied. "I just wish I'd not been distracted. As soon as I saw those fake waiters I knew something was wrong. I shouldn't have hesitated."

My mind drifted back to that fateful night in Paris and the note from Van urging me to 'GET OUT NOW'. I was sure if I'd followed that instruction I would have been at Raj's graveside now rather than his hospital bed, but still it didn't seem good enough.

Raj shifted where he lay, groaning and screwing up his face, clutching his bandaged abdomen. "Shit... I think it's time for my pain meds again."

"I'll get a nurse," I offered, rising to my feet. "I should be getting back to the office anyway."

"No!" He said hurriedly. "Don't go yet!"

I hesitated, turned to him, watched an awkward little smile emerge on his lips as he struggled to hide his discomfort. "I was thinking... erm... maybe when I get out of this place... maybe we could... errr... go and grab a drink or something?"

My heart sank as I took in his hopeful expression and I just hoped the small smile that I painted on looked genuine. "Errr... yeah sure... that'd be nice... look I really do need to get back. I'll come and visit again soon."

"I'd like that," I heard him say as I hurriedly turned and made for the exit.

Of course I had no intention on taking Raj up on his offer. He was nice enough, a real gentleman, good-looking and sweet. Someone I was that sure Jen would call 'a real catch', but those qualities didn't interest me. They didn't make my heart race and my mind spin. They didn't make me feel the same way that Van did.

In truth, my visit to Raj wasn't just as a well-meaning friend or colleague, I'd also had an ulterior motive. I wanted to find out who'd he'd been working with on the psychological profiling team. I tried to tell myself that I wanted to delve into Van's past to assist me with bringing him down, but I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I was in so deep now all I could do was tread water and try and keep my head above the surface, the dangerous current threatening to completely sweep me away.

Andrea was a small bird-like woman with sharp features and a serious demeanour, and she looked at me with something between wonder and admiration as I asked her to walk me through Van's psychological profile report.

"We've all been talking about you in this office Lyla," she said, eyes bright. "No one else has spent so much time with Van before and got away with their life. What was he like?"

Exciting... Dangerous... Intoxicating...

I batted the words out of my mind and settled on a very different adjective.

"Terrifying."

I saw Andrea visibly shudder as she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, picking up a thick file and starting to leaf through.

"You know, you're such a good agent," she said, pulling out sheets and photos. "Most field operatives don't care much about profiles and psych reports, they're straight in there all guns blazing, going for glory. They don't realise that getting inside someone's head and knowing how their mind works is key to catching them."

"Well, no matter what they've done, they're still people at the end of the day, right?" I answered.

Andrea narrowed her eyes. "Oh, we don't do this to humanise them. They're monsters... all of them... no matter what they've been through. No... we do this to find their weaknesses. That's how we bring them down."

"Oh..." I looked away quickly, taking a sip of my coffee.

Andrea carried on, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "Of course someone like Van... well that's easier said than done. He doesn't appear to have any weaknesses. Tell me... you've been the closest to him... what are your thoughts? Is there anything we can use to get to him?"

Her question caught me off guard and I froze for a moment. Of course Van had a weakness. A very obvious one. And unbeknownst to Andrea she was looking directly at it.

"Errr... no... I don't think he does have any weaknesses that I've seen... but he's just a man right? They're all weak in some way, hey?"

I nudged Andrea gently, grinning, trying for a joke to distract from the serious look on her face as she studied me intently, but it was quite obvious she wasn't the joking type. She simply sighed and turned her attention back to the files, picking up an old dog-eared crime report.

A photo slipped out of the pages and fell in front of me on the desk and I picked it up for a closer inspection. It was a small boy, he couldn't have been any older than five or six. His clothes were crumpled and torn and stained with what looked like dried blood. The pale skin of his face was streaked with it too. The haunted look in his eyes told me that he'd seen horrors no boy of his age should have seen.

"Is this... is this Van?" I stuttered.

I didn't really need to ask. I'd recognise those striking blue-green eyes anywhere. Andrea nodded.

"What happened to him?"

Andrea's expression was grim as she spoke. "This was taken when they found him, he was just six years old. His family were killed... all of them.... and he witnessed it. He'd been left in the house for five days with their bodies when they found him."

"Christ..." I breathed. "How were they killed?"

"Murdered."

The word cut through me like a knife to the heart and an image of my own dead father flashed through my mind's eye.

Andrea wasn't finished with her gruesome tale. "It was brutal, a machete attack apparently. The father was beheaded. It was a gangland style execution."

Nausea rose in me. "Who did it?"

"I'm sure you've heard of Tommy Chappell."

I nodded. Everybody had. An infamous criminal who was notorious for running all of the criminal activity in the North twenty years ago.

"Van's father was a bad man. Really bad. Rotten to the core. He used to work for Tommy, running the drug operations. He got greedy though, he was skimming money off the top, and then of course when he got found out Tommy had to make an example of him."

"What about his mum?"

Andrea had a look of distaste on her face. "She was no better. A junkie and an alcoholic. She should never have had children, those boys were neglected right from the moment they were born. They never really stood a chance."

"Boys?" I said, confused by the plural term.

She sifted through the files again, her fingers alighting on another photo. Van looked even younger here and he was with an older boy.

"Van has a brother?"

"Did," Andrea confirmed. "He was a lot older than Van. Chappell didn't spare him either."

I could picture the horrific scene in my mind, Van as a young child, forced to watch his family members meet their grisly ends. It didn't matter whether they were good or bad people, at that age family were all you had. I shook my head, trying to clear the emotion away that was threatening to surface. I had to be professional.

"So what happened to him... afterwards?"

Andrea pulled a sizeable stack of papers out of the file and placed them into my outstretched hands. "He got taken into care. He was young enough that there were plenty of families who were interested in fostering to start with... well, that was until the problems started."

I stopped sifting through the papers and looked up at Andrea, eager to hear more.

"It became apparent quite quickly that Van wasn't like other six year olds. Something was seriously wrong with him. He was... cruel, destructive, often violent. One family went so far as to say he was evil."

I scoffed disbelievingly. "That's ridiculous! He was six years old! After everything he'd been through it's not surprising he had issues!"

"Naturally," Andrea agreed. "Social care's come a long way in the last twenty years. Unfortunately Van was shipped around a lot at first. Families handed him back because they couldn't cope with him. Eventually they ran out of options, so he stayed in care homes... some of them shall we say... rather disreputable..."

She screwed up her face. She didn't need to elaborate, I'd heard enough horror stories of vulnerable children abused by those who had been trusted to care for them.

Andrea went on. "He became just another product of the system... damaged. It's a textbook classic example really. I mean, not all psychopathic behaviour stems from neglect and abuse, but the majority does. If an infant doesn't receive the love they need to form emotional bonds in the first few years of life they develop what's known as attachment disorder. Believe or not, humans have to be taught how to love!"

She allowed herself a laugh then, but I didn't find any humour in it. The ache in my heart was steadily getting stronger the more I heard.

"But his parents... they must have loved him in their own way!" My voice cracked with an emotion I wasn't expecting.

"The McCanns?" She snorted like I'd said something preposterous. "Like I said the mother was an addict and his father was a violent, abusive man. His brother was brought up in the family business and he was very much his father's son. Van was probably being taught how to load a gun when most little boys were getting their first train set. I don't think that boy ever saw anything even close to love... not even for one day of his life."

I wasn't prepared for the feelings that ripped through me, I almost felt physically winded and my unemotional facade slipped. Andrea's eyes narrowed at me.

"You look a little peaky. Do you want a glass of water?"

"No... errr no I'm fine, honestly. Carry on... please."

Andrea's eyes lingered on me just a fraction too long, and I could feel the guilt rising. I cleared my throat and let my head hang whilst I pretended to study the social services statement.

"There's not much more to tell really...." She lent forward, lowering her voice. "Don't go feeling sorry for him. He's good at what he does because he doesn't feel remorse."

"I don't feel sorry for him!" The words sprang from me forcefully, defensively. "I just know how it feels to lose a parent in such a brutal way... that's all."

"Yes I know all about that," Andrea said. "It's the age-old argument of nature versus nurture isn't it? Are people really born bad or does life just shape them that way? You can put two people through the same experience and they can react in totally different ways. Van chose this life. Your dad was murdered too but look how you turned out."

Yeah, a real upstanding and moral citizen...

"It's hardly the same is it?" I replied, knowing I sounded like I was defending him but not being able to stop myself. "He had nothing. At least I had family... my mum..."

"Like she was such a comfort to you when it happened!" Andrea's sharp and sarcastic tone cut me off and I looked at her, stunned. She looked shocked by the outburst herself, quickly back-tracking.

"Err... I didn't mean... I mean I shouldn't have said that..." She faltered, then put out a hand to rest on my arm which I hastily moved away. "I'm sorry but I read your file, your psych evaluations, your therapy sessions..."

I dropped the files on the desk, rising quickly to my feet, pushing the chair back forcefully across the floor with a screeching sound. "I suggest you do your job and read the criminals' reports, not the staff's!" I hissed.

"But... but I had to! When we had that data breach earlier in the year... all those files got accessed. It wasn't just the assignment files... they got into the personnel files too."

I'd already started to turn, but this statement stopped me in my tracks. I'd not heard of any data breach. "What are you talking about?"

Andrea's face looked stricken, like she'd said something she shouldn't have and had now been caught out. I glared at her, watched her squirm with unease.

"I'm guessing no one told you then..."

I took a step closer, my mind racing. "Told me what?"

She glanced around, uncomfortable, but I wasn't backing down. "Just tell me," I said sharply.

She sighed then, took a breath before the words tumbled out of her. "It was the worst breach we've had. Our network's supposed to have state of the art encryption too, it should be uncrackable, but somehow someone got in. They accessed all sorts, assignments, undercover agent information. It blew some of their covers wide open. Thankfully they managed to get them all out in time... but it could have cost lives. Remember that senior member of staff Eric suddenly leaving? Someone had to be made accountable. At least they didn't access too many of the personnel files..." she trailed off, eyes darting around before coming to rest on me again. "They got into your file though... they accessed the whole lot... everything. It was strange because none of the other agents were affected... it was only yours..."

I'd stopped listening at this point. Thoughts were thundering through my head as I stood motionless, mouth agape.

"Are you alright? I don't think Paul wanted to worry you..."

I ignored her, starting to back away before I quickly whirled around and made for the door, flinging it open. All I could picture in my head was Van, eyes burning into me with intensity whilst he spoke those three words.

"I know you..."

#ice cold #van mccann fanfic #au fanfic #vanfic

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jewishvitya · 10 months

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hi riki! this is a bizarre question ngl, but im wondering if you could please tell me about why you are anti-Zionist? Since i have FRESHLY (last month!! Woohoo!!) become bat mitzvah, and I’m not going to beit Sefer every week now, I’m starting to realize that what I was told about Israel and zionism miiiight be innacurate. Please feel free not to, but I would personally feel more comfortable hearing about Antizionism from somebody who is for sure not hiding any antisemitic biases. Thanks and I hope it’s not a bother!

Mazal tov!

I was debating if I should reply to this and how. You're only one year older than my son and I never considered talking about this with a kid other than my own children. But if you're online reading and looking up information about this, I'll just answer the way I would for anyone. Like I said, I don't mind explaining. But I don't have the energy to collect sources for you. I'll do that later if you'd like. For now it'll be a bit of a rant.

Basically, if you ask different people what zionism is, you'll get different answers. Some people say that zionism is just the acknowledgement of our connection to this land. That's not what I'm going against. I'm not denying that this is our ancestral homeland. I've never known a different home, I grew up near Hebron. Our history means everything to me. So maybe you could create some definition of zionism that I wouldn't be against. But then I'll be against the use of the word because in practice, politically, the movement has been colonialist. And that reality is more important to me. So when I say I'm antizionist, I'm not talking about whatever pretty idea someone might have, I'm talking about things that to me are very concrete.

Zionism uses whatever political terminology is useful to it at the time. Currently, it tries to paint itself as a sort of landback movement, placing us as the indigenous population of this land. This is a distraction. If you mean "indigenous" as "this is where we originated" - both us and Palestinians are indigenous, which makes this term pointless to this situation. If you mean "indigenous" as "a local population facing colonization" - they're indigenous and we're the colonizers. That's the more politically useful distinction.

And the thing is, zionists knew they were colonizers. Ben Gurion was welcomed by the local population and expressed hope that they're nomadic and could be persuaded to leave. Ze'ev Jabotinsky argued that no land has been colonized with the consent of its natives, so we should just take what we want like other occupying forces did. They knew what they were doing. At the time, there wasn't the broad political pushback against colonialism that you see today, so they didn't really hide it. They saw themselves as the colonizing force and the Palestinians as the natives and this distinction had them placing themselves above the Palestinians.

When I was in school, I was made to believe that Palestine was never truly a country and the population here was never a cohesive nation. You might see questions like "Who were the Palestinian prime ministers and presidents? What was the Palestinian coin? What Palestinian wars were there before the creation of Israel?"

These questions tell you nothing other than the fact that Palestine has been under foreign occupation for a very long time. They try to lead you to believe that Palestine and the Palestinian identity are fictional constructs designed to deny us our place in this land.

But Palestinians have their own dialect of Arabic. They have their own varieties of Middle Eastern foods. They have their own clothing, their own embroidery patterns, their own dances. They have a very rich culture that wasn't just made up from nothing within the last century. I still have to battle against cognitive dissonance every time I find something of the sort, because Palestinian culture goes against everything I was taught.

The truth is, the British had no right to occupy Palestine, and they had no right to offer it to us. If we pretend there was no population that was wronged when we took Israel, we can be "the good guys" with Palestinians being a sinister plot to ruin us. This turns normal families, normal people, into a conspiracy made to hurt us. We're not fighting a military force - every Palestinian person is a threat to our legitimacy. Israelis don't even really use the term "Palestinians" - they're just Arabs, their individual identity is stripped from them. We pretend that they belong to other countries around us.

Israeli propaganda will tell you that we only ever act in self defense. It's in the name of our military, it's called a defense force. Israel boasts that it has the only ethical military in the world. The only defensive one. But like I said, we define threats very broadly. And we whitewash a lot of history. I was taught in school all our fighting was defensive - and then I spoke to an elderly man and he said "of course we killed whole villages, it was war, that's what you do." Only as an adult I found out about things like the Sabra and Shatila massacre and our involvement in it.

For the existence of Israel as an ethnostate, every Palestinian is a threat. A lot of people are all in favor of Israel, but against the government actions of ethnic cleansing. The truth is, the ethnostate is not sustainable without the ethnic cleansing. You can't accept one and expect it not to lead to the other. An ethnostate is never a justified goal, and that's always been the goal of zionism as a practical movement.

And I know why this exists. We've had two millennia of persecution. Antisemitism is one of the oldest forms of bigotry. And we just experienced an attempt to industrially exterminate us, we lost millions, including from my own family. We want shelter and safety and the ability to defend ourselves. I just can't see that as justification for what we did and continue to do.

You can look up our human rights abuses, but personally, there were moments that hit me. When I saw a whole warehouse of mail intended to reach Gaza, mail that's been kept from them for years, including items like wheelchairs, in such bad conditions that some envelopes got moldy. I still think of the people who spent all that money to get a wheelchair and were prevented mobility because we decided to hold their mail.

I watched the biggest apartment building in Palestine collapse under our bombs and I cried thinking about the people inside, and about the potential survivors and everything they lost.

I watched our people beat up the pallbearers at the funeral of Shireen Abu-Akleh, a Palestinian reporter. They almost dropped the casket from all those beatings. They were no threat. They just carried her. There was no reason to hurt them.

On the news, after Shireen Abu-Akleh died, the description of the Palestinian response to her death was that they're "חוגגים על המוות." The literal translation is that they're celebrating over the death, but that's not what it means. The meaning is that they're exaggerating their pain and their grief. They're acting, pretending, milking the injustice of it for show. And that's a common Israeli narrative, that Palestinians make a big deal out of things and pretend to suffer more just to make us look bad. We've dehumanized them to the point where we don't believe their grief.

And before all of this, growing up, I saw what the "us vs them" mentality caused in children. I grew up in Kiryat Arba and the population there is very strongly zionist. It's a settlement. It's largely Dati Leumi (national religious? I'm not sure how to translate, dati means religious and leumi means national). Over there I saw children as young as six cheerfully talk about joining the military and killing Arabs. I saw a kid throwing chocolate past the electric fence separating us from them, and laughing when a small Palestinian child went looking for that chocolate, calling her a pig. I saw my high school classmates questioning if they should help the family of a six-months-old baby, first demanding to know if the sick infant is Arab.

The Israeli left has a bit of a slogan. הכיבוש משחית. The occupation corrupts. It means that being an oppressive force changes what we are. It ruins us. And I truly believe that. It taints so much about us and our culture, about our compassion and our ability to have solidarity with other humans. Many principles that kept us safe in diaspora are used now to harm gentiles living under our control, and Palestinians suffer most of all.

So these are the reasons I'm antizionist. I hate what we do to Palestinians. I hate what it does to us. And more fundamentally, I'm against colonialism.

#riki babbles #Palestine

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devilfic · 1 year

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uh..hi, I see you are accepting requests; Bruce wayne (battinson) with a gothic s/o? I leave everything to your discretion ( I'm a little new here on tumblr and this is my first request so sorry if I did something wrong,sorry :(

❝bruce wayne with a gothic s/o❞

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: mentions of/use of blood. words: 1.1k.

a/n: you're perfectly fine!! dw bub. also, I hope my representation of the goth community is adequate. I am a fan of the music but am still very much a baby bat ;-;

for all intents and purposes, bruce IS a goth

but to be honest, he isn't really in the culture

he definitely went through a modest phase as a teenager but because of the public eye, he probably wasn't allowed to lean into it in regard to looks

but music has always been a way for him to express himself

and come on, the guy lives in goth-am. the archetypes write themselves

I could see him having a steady rotation of grunge rock, alternative, and goth rock on his playlists

alfred has never really understood the ominous choirs or the skull-shaking bass but “go off, master bruce” as he would say

he would not say that

and let’s face it, take bruce to a goth club or something and no one will be able to tell that he’s not familiar

in the event that bruce ends up with a gothic s/o, I think he would be quietly fascinated over you

you would catch him watching as you put together outfits, do your hair or makeup, etc. with this slightly unnerving stare that you’re unfortunately used to, but the difference between bruce’s stare and others’ is that you can tell he’s fascinated

whenever he finds something that appeals to him, he tends to get a little lost watching it

it’s really endearing when you happen to catch him doing it to you all the time ;-;

asking him what he’s thinking about when he looks at you usually helps get him out of the trance

he sometimes asks if you can try looks on him that he otherwise wouldn’t do himself

he doesn’t really like to do this, but he does have to keep up the image of a squeaky clean ceo that definitely doesn’t dress up as a giant bat every night, so whatever you do to him has to come off in one hot shower

the first time you ever took a tub of gel to his hair and drew on some elaborate eyeliner and eyeshadow, he’d stared at the mirror as if he was trapped inside someone else’s body

he was used to caking black paint on his eyes in a messy, undone up way of course, so he’d never looked this… deliberately pretty

he really couldn’t begin to consider wearing looks like this out with you because, again, squeaky clean ceo

but you’ve gotten plenty of pictures of him in the privacy of wayne tower to make up for it

but wouldn’t he just look darling in a corporate goth getup? ;-;

he would. because that’s literally his fashion style right now

as for music, I mentioned in my headcanons for bruce making you a playlist that he absolutely loves taking recommendations from you and playing them in the batcave at a deafening volume

it’s his love language: including bits of you into his routine

now I said that he’s not able to dress up with you when you go out, but that doesn’t by any means mean that he feels you shouldn’t either

bruce is a secretive, possessive lover anyway. it’s very rare you two are spotted together outside of the tower, especially in his early days as batman

when he starts getting back into the swing of being Bruce Wayne, there are plenty of public events that he’s asked to attend

of which he usually just goes to by himself

but once you two have been together long enough, I think bruce would start asking if you’d be okay being his date to things

like he knows that some of this stuff isn’t your cup of tea, and he knows better than any one that gotham high society is brutal to anyone who doesn’t “fit in”, so he would never want to put you into a position where you felt uncomfortable or ostracized

but he also genuinely is proud to have you by his side, and he’s a little tired of bringing alfred as his date to things LMAO

he makes it painstakingly clear that you’re free to be yourself. he doesn’t want you to put on some facade just to appeal to people that bruce doesn’t actually care about

if you want to go all out at galas, he’s all for it

hell, he’ll even don a few accessories (your choice) to match you

speaking of

I know that not every goth is into this BUT I am

if you and bruce were to get even more serious (or married!), I think that he would be interested in exchanging blood jewelry with you

it’d come up one night as you’re patching him up, pressing a cloth to a cut in his cheek that he got on patrol

he’d be a bit unsure about how to go about asking you since he has no idea if it’d freak you out

but he proposes it carefully, “I’ve seen these... rings. unique rings. I thought about getting us a pair”

when you ask for further explanation, he tells you about artisans who take your blood and fashion them into beautiful bands of silver

they’re minimalist, subtle, and mean something

“I’d like to carry you with me, in a way. what do you think?”

if you’re down, he is excited to get the actual rings done

he has alfred draw the blood for both of you, sending it off to get made, and when the rings come back he immediately finds you to try them on

your matching rings are stunning, a trick of the light that makes others think they’re made of garnet or stained, tempered glass

and if anyone asks, that’s what he might say

it’s your little secret ^^

ALSO

YOU CAN’T STOP ME

if you happen to show him the crow (1994), he is super gonna wanna dress up as eric for halloween with you

I’m talking full face of white paint and black eyeliner/lipstick, tight leather pants, ripped muscle shirt, the WORKS

like, LOOK at the material

you cannot tell me bruce wouldn’t be made for this look

it’d be a few steps out of his comfort zone with the elaborate makeup and the tight-fitting clothing, but I think he’d do it just to have you compliment him

god forbid you tell him that the look suits him and he should wear it more often

I said bruce has to play the role of the squeaky clean ceo but he loves you, public image be damned

I would give anything to be a citizen of gotham experiencing eric!bruce

I would be the biggest pick me ever, I’m sorry dear reader

but all jokes aside, I think bruce would really enjoy having a gothic s/o! he would think ur really cool and hot wear your blood as a priceless accessory (if you’re down) <3

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @moonlightreader649

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanons #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman imagine #batman headcanons #batman fic #batman fluff #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #mjwrites

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