#yeah we were meant to eat fruit or whatever

[cosmicstarlatte]

Coconut (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

You got a coconut and need help opening it. You decide to ask your favorite guy. Does he fail or succeed?

»Characters: Demon Bros + Dateables

»Tags: Shitpost, Humor, Mammon's At It Again, Levi Is My Fave

Lucifer:

"Hand it over."

He's heard of coconuts but never seen one up close

Gently tosses it in his hand for a feel

Hmph this will be easy

ItWasNot.png

Had to pull out the old worst cursed magic he could think of

It didn't work

The many cursed tools in the dungeons also didn't work

Sweating angry mess...how's it not open!?

Angrily chucks it through the wall

It knocked out a poor unsuspecting Levi

"I will get you literally anything else you desire that's not that."

Mammon:

"Why's it furry?"

"What do ya mean you're s'pose to eat it?"

He didn't understand why you wanted this thing but he wasn't going to let his human down

Got upset that his attempts did nothing, however he hatched an idea

Got a booth at the carnival

"Pay up and test ya strength! How tough are ya!? HEY YOU! YOU'RE NOT A WIMP ARE YA?"

After hundreds of tries from monsters and demons, the coconut finally split open

He brought it back to you (wearing new bling and all)

"The Great Mammon never disappoints! Also...can ya get me more of 'em?"

Levi:

"Wooaahh a coconut!? I've seen these in so many anime beach episodes!"

The otaku was excited you came to him for help!

He was going to get it open one way or another!

He tried for an hour before sending you off

"I'll come find you when I open it!"

It would be years before he returns

(You lived in the Devildom after the program)

He journeyed through the Devildom in search of knowledge for his quest

He developed surprising friendships, suffered painful losses, but also discovered a new meaning to life

He did eventually find a way to open the coconut

He came back home wizard style

"I bring you that of which you requested"

"Levi no one knew where you went, you were just gone! We were worried!"

"I got your coconut open though! Quest complete!"

He thought the hugs and kisses from you were worth it, the coconut must've meant a lot to you!

I love him so much yall

Satan:

"A coconut? I've only ever read about them. Bring it here."

Gave it a few curious knocks

This will be easy 2.0

Tried to peel it and saw it did nothing

Tried to karate chop it, still nothing

He chuckled and a black aura surrounded him

I see.

He tried punching it and then clawing at it for a while

There is no god, just nothingness

He lost his shit in demon form

His rampage destroyed a chunk of the house

Coconuts are no longer allowed at the House of Lamentation

Like you can't even say the word coconut

Asmo:

"What is that?"

He did not want to touch whatever that thing was

He saw the disappointed look in your face and changed his mind

He tried to break it open in half with his bare hands but it was futile

Why is this thing so tough?

He was not having it, he was going to open your precious coconut!

"MAMMON!"

He could only think of one other way

A grumbling Mammon appeared

"Just stand there a second will you?"

He knocked the coconut against his head (HEY!) and the coconut split open!

It did break one of his manicured nails though but he thought the happiness on your face was worth it

Beel:

"Did you bring more?" (You did)

Was excited to try a human world fruit

Tried to break it in half with his hands

Was surprised when it didn't...but no worries!

He briefly bared his fangs and gave a sharp bite

It made a little opening and he was then able to split it with his hands

He was happy trying something new with you and was excited for future recipes

Yeah...no struggles here ajsjdlgkskdldk

Belphie:

"Huh? You want me to open that?"

He was surprised but flattered you'd go to him

He wasn't even sure what that thing was

He tried to strangle it but just couldn't get it to open

Then he tried to threaten it

Still didn't work

Was exhausted at this point and thought a well deserved nap was needed

You found him clinging to the coconut like a plushie

You never got it back

Diavolo:

"Oh what a cute little silly fruit!"

He thought it looked precious!

Of course he would open it for you!

After a few minutes of trying to get the thing open, he was getting flustered

This can't be from the human realm? It's...it's diabolical!

He gave a sad pout and tried a *different* approach

"Please little one, open up will you?" He politely begged the unforgiving fruit

It magically split open and he triumphantly gave you your coconut back!

...Still not sure how that works but it's probably just... a Dia thing LMAO

Barbatos:

"I would be happy to. Although can you pick it up in say 30 min? I have another task to attend to."

He traveled to the human realm and picked up some chopped coconut and fresh coconut juice for you

He's a demon of many talents

He's also a demon of many secrets

He's never mastered the art of opening human world coconuts but he wasn't going to let you or anyone else know that!

He gave you a beautifully arranged plate and fancy jar

Simeon:

"I can try."

He knew of coconuts but never touched one

He tried knocking it a few times but it didn't work

He tried to remain calm as he tried a few other methods

Burn it. Burn it Simeon.

No just ignore the voice

After one more attempt he lost his cool

He had quite a colorful vocabulary

Threw dangerous celestial magic spears at the indestructible fruit

Luke freaked out and knocked him out in panic

Luke was quite frightened and didn't trust coconuts after Simeons rage

Simeon hates when they refer to it as The Incident™️

Solomon:

"Sure! I will handle it."

He's opened a few in his lifetime

He found a way to get it open every time!

He gingerly touched the coconut

So we meet again

He took the coconut and chucked it fiercely against the wall

He smirked at the small shattered pieces

He thought back on the first coconut he ever had the displeasure of meeting...he will never be made a fool again

You decided to buy coconut juice instead

»Note: Imagine you ask Belphie to open a banana and he just immediately strangles the thing, like is that just how he opens things?? Yep, a new headcanon acquired!

⬦You might also like: Mexican Restaurant︱Waffle House︱Devil-Mart⭐

#obey me shitpost #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me crack #I'm such a simp for levi and dia aaaaaaaaaaa #obey me leviathan #obey me headcanons #◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹ #shitpostcifer

[givemea-dam-break]

daughters of the evening

⭒⭒⭒⭒ in which luke’s descent from good may be found.

pairing: luke castellan x (fem) reader

a/n: hey guys!! first fic in a while and i know, i know, pjo book readers are disappointed in me… but i’m just a girl! i’m literally just a girl! please enjoy my brain baby i love her :) i love writing quests so much, so this was really nice to write for my first fic back on tumblr. i hope you guys enjoy! if anybody wants to be added to my pjo taglist, let me know!

warnings: canon typical violence, book spoilers, blood/injury description, rusty writing

words: 5.8K ⭒⭒⭒⭒

(y/n) couldn’t remember when the change in Luke became permanent.

She could remember the hints of something at the corners of his eyes, something that bit at the happiness that filled them, eating away at it like rot on wood. She could remember the slow decline in his respect for his father, respect that had barely been there for years, though was now bridging on outright disrespect.

She could remember the crux of it all, the very moment in which all of the little things began to coalesce into something ugly. A flash of claws, the deep scarlet of mortal blood followed by shimmering gold ichor. The horrible sound of screaming. Gleaming fruits of gold. Gorgeous, blooming green trees towering above them that concealed the violence below.

It was after the quest that Luke, her Luke, was never the same.

⭒⭒

“I don’t remember San Francisco looking like this.”

Luke’s lips curled into a smile. “You’ve never been to San Francisco.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen it in movies through which I have lived vicariously. It’s in one of the Indiana Jones’s, right? Looks different.”

“Those movies are from the eighties,” Luke said. “So, yeah, it’s going to look different.”

Charles Beckendorf, their questmate, heaved a sigh. “Do you guys ever stop?”

“Stop what?” (y/n) asked.

“Being annoying? Flirting? Whatever you want to call it.”

Her face felt awfully hot and she found herself unable to even look in Luke’s general direction. It was a comment that had been made many times in the past, one she was sure Luke was sick to death of, but she found herself yearning for comments like it. They meant that maybe she wasn’t dreaming up something between them.

Either way, she didn’t acknowledge it, rather stuffing her hand into her unzipped backpack and scrounging around until finally she found what she wanted. With a dramatic flair, she revealed three paper maps, each embellished with their names written in colourful pen at the top.

A moment of silence, then Luke said, “Why do we need a map each? Can’t we just share? And where did you even get those?”

“I got them back in Salt Lake City, before we happened upon that massive crab, you remember the one? All blue and slimy.” She pressed the maps into their hands. “There are multiple because knowing you both, you’ll lose them and I’m not buying any more. But, look! They’re colour-coded. Green for me because, duh, Demeter. Orange for Beckendorf, red for you. We can at least make this quest for some stupid apples interesting.”

Beckendorf raised a brow, giving her a strange look. “With glittery gel pen?”

“Glittery gel pen makes everything better,” she insisted. “I’m glad you acknowledge that. Now, come on. With all this talking you two have been doing, we don’t have much time to spare. You’re like a pair of gossiping grannies.”

The two shared a look over her head, one they thought she didn’t see, but it only made her hold back a laugh. They were a relatively upbeat group as it was, but she prided herself on keeping the mood light, especially when danger was looming. With the might of glittery gel pens, a travel-size game of Monopoly, and a cheesy puns book they had picked up off the side of the road, they would be unstoppable should their enemies need a good laugh.

It wasn’t that they weren’t capable of what was ahead of them that she felt the need to joke around, it was just her regular nerves. The three of them were experienced and powerful demigods, skilled fighters and strategists, the best of the best. Luke had his immense skill with a sword and the mind of a trickster; Beckendorf had the brains and strength of a blacksmith, and could sense a trap a mile away and disarm it in moments; (y/n) herself was a powerful daughter of Demeter and, though not to the standard of Luke, was also skilled with a sword.

They hadn’t faced much trouble before. They were a tried-and-tested trio, having been on multiple quests together in the past and finding themselves working well together. 

This time, it seemed like a match made by the Fates. A quest ordained by Hermes, Luke’s father, to retrieve the Apples of Immortality from the Garden of the Hesperides - gardens and plants being the domain of Demeter and, by extension, (y/n). And, no doubt, there would be many traps or the need for a strong mind, hence Beckendorf. He was a year or two younger than she and Luke, but had proved himself upon countless occasions. She trusted him with her life.

Almost a week now they’d been on this quest, and still she felt like a giddy child. Almost seventeen and, at her big age, she was holding back smiles and giggles befitting of a schoolgirl with a crush. Part of it was gratefulness that a demigod such as Luke had chosen her to join him on this quest, even after being friends for years and having gone on numerous quests together already. Part of it was simply that she was madly in love with the boy.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then, watching the way the afternoon sun gleamed on his face, setting his dark eyes alight with flame. There was a curious smile on his lips, one that concealed mischief and intelligence; one she had loved for as long as she could remember. His hair was messy after days of travelling and not bothering to fuss with it - she dreaded to think of what her own looked like, the only mirror she had being her sword - but there was something so extremely endearing about it. Wild curls that gave his lightly-freckled face even more life.

Their maps didn’t help their hunt for the Garden an awful lot. For what had to have been at least two hours, they stumbled around the city, turning this way and that, earning odd looks from strangers. 

“For being the son of the god of travellers,” (y/n) said, “you are horrendous at reading a map.”

Luke gave her a nudge with his elbow as he scanned the map. He was grinning. Her stomach was doing cartwheels. “Maps make sense enough, but I think these ones are out of date.”

“Maps don’t go out of date, stupid.”

Beckendorf was holding back a smile. “I think he’s right. I think our maps are too old.”

(y/n) glowered at them, plucking their maps from their hands. Fine. They didn’t deserve to hold maps graced with her glittery gel pens anyways.

“Well,” she said. “Unless either of you have any ideas, we’re going to be stuck wandering for hours. Come on, Luke. Use your magicky journey powers. They got us this far.”

His eyes shone, and her knees felt a little weak. She loved it when he looked at her like that, when she had said something funny. It was as though the heavens themselves had descended and flooded his face with light and beauty. She couldn’t look away.

“It’s a big garden,” he retorted. “Find the big garden, daughter of the mighty Demeter!”

She knew he meant it as a joke - the sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice - but there was something in his tone that she couldn’t identify. Something deeper than a simple sarcastic comment. This had been a pity quest, of sorts, she knew. Luke had been getting restless and his father had wanted to satiate him, but it wasn’t enough. He was displeased with the gods, to say the least.

But he kept a good lock on his expressions, on his words. She wouldn’t have suspected a thing had she not known him as well as she knew the feeling of grass beneath her feet.

Eventually, combining their powers and the single brain cell that seemed to be taken by Beckendorf, they found their way to the Mount Tamalpais State Park, which was not open to visitors now that the sun was setting.

They stared up at the distant mountain, the sloping greenland and towering trees that led towards it, and heaved a synonymous groan. Quests could never be even slightly easy, it seemed. Why would the gods let them head to a random park in the city when they could have them trespassing in a state park at night, lives in the hands of the monsters and animals alike that roamed the woods? The gods would rather have them arrested than have something be easy.

“You’re kidding, right?” Beckendorf said. “We don’t have to walk all that way?”

(y/n) frowned. She wished more than anything that they could just turn around and leave, a feeling she did not often get on quests. But something didn’t feel right. There was a twist in her gut, a deep intuition that told her something was going to go wrong.

But her gut was also pulling her towards the mountain. There was a power there, unlike any she had felt before, and she wanted to know what it was. 

“We’ll be fine,” she insisted, though she didn’t feel entirely sure herself.

She was the first to make the step towards their darkening fates. If she had known the outcome, she would have turned and fled immediately.

The three of them trudged up the path, flicking on torches when the sky grew darker and the ground in front of them too hard to see. It gave them an eerie glow, entirely unlike the warm glow of their weapons. All of their features were in stark contrast to the dark surroundings; Luke’s cheekbones, Beckendorf’s eyes, her brownbone. It was disconcerting, and it felt all too much like they were the lead characters in a ghost story.

She was considering turning back about halfway there. The tug in her gut was becoming stronger, almost unbearable, and her head was pounding, filled with the worry of the possible incidents that had not happened yet. 

The only thing that kept her going was Luke’s pinky finger wrapped around hers.

Maybe he felt her nerves, so acute that she feared her sinews and tendons and bones could snap at any moment. But Luke knew her. He had known her since they were barely teenagers. He knew her better than she knew herself: every habit she had; every face she made; every hint of a feeling before she knew it was coming. He had some deep understanding of her, one that would have made her feel vulnerable in any other situation with any other person. Luke was not any other person.

His pinky was wrapped around hers tightly, warmer than the rest of her body put together. It curled around hers just so, acknowledging her worry. His jacket sleeve brushed hers.

It wasn’t until they reached the Garden at the foot of the mountain that his hand wrapped around hers fully, encasing it entirely in warmth and comfort. His palms were calloused, fingers ribbed with light scars, but she could not imagine it any other way.

The Garden of the Hesperides was easily the most beautiful place she had ever seen and was likely the most beautiful place she would ever see. Stars hung above them in the night sky, glittering so brightly it was as though they could reach out and touch them with their outstretched fingers. Lush green grass coated the ground beneath their feet and beyond, speckled with flowers so bright they almost glowed in the dark. It was bristling with life, so full of it that (y/n) could feel it all deep in her bones.

But the source of the power lay further afield.

A tree, much taller than the rest, stood at the centre of the garden, boasting more golden apples than (y/n) could count. Its branches swayed in the faint breeze in mesmerising swoops, and the scent of fresh fruit laced with something that could only be described as addictive brushed over them. A faint mist swirled around the trunk of the tree, glittering slightly in the moonlight.

“Holy Hephaestus,” Beckendorf murmured, slack-jawed.

“That’s one big tree,” Luke said. 

“You certainly have a way with words,” (y/n) said.

His hand only squeezed hers in response. She could feel his heartbeat in his wrist. How was it so steady?

There was a shift in the wind, then, and a soft bite came into the air. Goosebumps prickled the skin of their arms, raising the hair there. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore she could hear the faintest lull of singing voices and could feel the weight of some large presence in the air. Nothing could be seen but the beautiful garden and the decadent tree in the centre.

“Luke Castellan,” said a soft voice. Luke visibly tensed, eyes narrowing at the usage of his surname. “(y/n) (l/n). Charles Beckendorf. We have been expecting you in our Garden for quite some time now.”

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. But, finally, after a few moments, the speaker emerged from the fine mist.

She didn’t look like much, appearing to be barely older than (y/n), but there was something about her surrounding aura that suggested she was much, much older. Dark, inky hair tumbled over narrow tawny shoulders, framing even darker eyes that shone with unknown magic. The woman seemed to blink slowly, as if bored or tired, and it looked as though she were merely floating over the ground rather than walking. It was hard to tell. Her Greek chiton covered her feet.

“We are the Hesperides,” she said, voice ever gentle, as four more women appeared, each almost identical in appearance. “Daughters of the Evening. Nymphs of the Sunset. Protectors of this Garden. What is your business here?”

There was a cockiness to Luke’s smile then, one that had (y/n) on edge. “If you’ve been expecting us, then surely you know our business.”

The lead Hesperide drew nearer, stopping a few feet away from their trio. Her sisters gathered at her sides, dark eyes sparkling with stars and cold curiosity and something overtly bitter. The demigods were clearly unwelcome here, but they intended to make a game of their quest.

(y/n)’s hand squeezed Luke’s in warning. He spared her a glance, her heart drawing still when his warm eyes met hers. His chin dipped slightly in a nod, and he gave her hand a squeeze before turning his attention back to the Hesperides.

“We’ve been sent here on a quest by my father Hermes,” Luke announced. His voice held more confidence than she felt. “We’re here to retrieve a golden apple.”

It was strange watching the Hesperides’ heads tilt in unison as if they were each an extension of the other. Voices lulled around them, soft and gentle, and the worry seeped from her very bones. Her hand fell from Luke’s. Something felt strangely at ease in her stomach despite their circumstances.

“You may try,” said the lead Hesperide. Her skin glimmered like marble in the moonlight. “Our dearest Ladon protects this tree with his life. He does not sleep. Every second of every day, he guards our gift from Gaea, the goddess Hera’s wedding gift. Do not think it will be easy to pass him.”

The Hesperides seemed to fade into the mist, then, their bodies becoming light and transparent as they slowly backed away until nothing was left but the faint singing swirling around them. The voices gave (y/n) a strange feeling, as though pulling her towards the tree.

“Who’s Ladon?” Beckendorf asked.

The three of them stood for a moment, watching the swirling mist.

“A dragon,” (y/n) said. “A big dragon.”

She could feel his presence, she realised. The heavy weight that had settled over them upon entering the Garden, it couldn’t be anything else. Even still, she could feel him through the ground, like an impending sense of death and doom. She’d had similar feelings before, an innate knowledge that the strawberry fields were close to wilting one year. Campers had called her crazy, but she knew. The earth knew.

And it knew now. She was horribly aware of the heaviness in her gut that surrounded the bright power of the apple tree. It could be nothing but Ladon.

“Any ideas, Luke?” she asked. “You’re our idea guy.”

He scoffed. “Since when? You’ve been dragging us around by our ears this entire quest.”

But he could see the nerves that she felt. He knew how strange this was for her, to feel so deeply worried about a quest. He knew something was wrong.

“I’ll get the apple,” he said, and his shoulders rose with confidence. His hand, the one that had held (y/n)’s moments ago, twitched just so. “I’m the fastest out of the three of us. You two, keep our friend distracted.”

There was a deep grumble at that moment, as if Ladon were making himself known. It shook the ground and the boughs of the tree trembled. Sweet-smelling apples tumbled into the mist.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to get the apples?” (y/n) asked. “You brought along a daughter of Demeter for a reason.”

He smiled softly at her. “That’s not the reason I brought you along.”

And, before either she or Beckendorf could protest his stupidity or question his statement, Luke’s glowing sword materialised in his hand and he was running into the mist.

The mist spread apart as his feet made contact, and (y/n)’s heart dropped. Beckendorf, one of the bravest demigods she had ever met despite his age, had a tremor in his hands as he pulled free his sword.

Within the mist was the largest monster (y/n) had ever seen. It was wrapped around the tree in a serpentine-like way, scales glimmering in the moonlight like molten copper and bronze. Massive claws sunk into the dirt surrounding the tree, at least the length of her forearm and as wide as Beckendorf’s. Every breath it released shook the branches of the tree as though caught in a gale.

The most horrifying part: the dragon had a hundred heads.

She had read about Ladon, had familiarised herself with the myths surrounding the Hesperides. Days before the quest, she and Luke had sat down at the canoe lake, poring over old history books that told the tale of Heracles and his Twelve Labours, one of which was the very quest they were being made to repeat. Luke had made a joke of it back then, unhappy with the quest he had been given and disbelieving that what they faced would be much of a threat.

But Ladon was no joke. It was an entirely different thing seeing drawings of the dragon and seeing him in real life. His hundred heads slithered through the air like snakes on the water, luminous yellow eyes watching the demigods with piqued interest. 

Even Luke faltered.

A deep breath came from all two hundred of the dragon’s nostrils, washing over them in a hot, acidic wave. The smell alone was horrendous, like an old, decrepit sewer filled with rotting rats, and it had the hairs on her arms standing and her eyes burning. 

She was worried that she may never be able to move again, frozen in place by the sheer might of Ladon, but when Luke turned to look at her, blood flooded into her veins again. He was counting on her. She wouldn’t let him down.

Ladon expected a frontal assault. He was waiting for Luke to attack, watching like a predator on prey, but he did not expect the very tree he protected to act against him.

With a heave of energy, (y/n) stretched out her arm and watched as the tree’s trunk began to swell as if filling with liquid. Ladon’s serpentine body writhed around it, twisting as he moved to accommodate the growing tree. The branches above him shook, dipping towards the ground slowly. Too slowly.

The dragon seemed to realise what, or who, was causing the change, and snarled ferociously. It was at that moment that Beckendorf grabbed a ball of Celestial bronze from his belt and, with a strong arm and remarkably good aim, threw it at the beast.

An explosion of green ignited before them as the ball slammed into Ladon’s thick hide. The dragon roared, whether in pain or fury, and set its bright gaze on (y/n) and Beckendorf.

Fear coursed through her body. She could hardly breathe. The branches wavered, pausing the pursuit to the ground. Beckendorf launched another one of his Celestial bronze bombs.

A pity quest, that’s what this had been. But, maybe, it was more than that. Maybe this was Hermes’ punishment for Luke wanting more from his life. Maybe this was (y/n)’s consequence for falling so irrevocably in love with Luke - for feeling the way she did, she would have to follow him to impossible circumstances.

But none of them deserved it.

It was at that moment that Luke took his leap.

With speed befitting a child of Hermes, he leapt onto Ladon’s mighty body, feet finding purchase on his rough scales, and launched himself upwards towards the descending branches.

For a moment, there was hope. Even Heracles had not retrieved the apples by facing Ladon, but maybe Luke would. Perhaps Luke would succeed where Heracles had not. Pride swelled in her heart, coated her tongue like warm honey, and she almost smiled.

Copper-coloured claws flashed in the moonlight. A chorus of soft, harmonising voices swirled around them like mist.

Mistake, they sang. The boy has made a mistake.

There was a cry of pain so guttural that (y/n) felt it in her soul. Her feet were moving before she could truly comprehend what was happening. The grass tried to reach for her ankles, tried to stop her in her mission, but nothing could. Had a god stood before her, she would have found her way past them. Nothing could stop her, not even this dragon that caused such fear in her bones.

She reached Luke as Ladon wound around the tree tightly, snarling protectively. Something in the beast’s demeanour hinted at pain beneath the danger, and when she saw the gold blood pooling just a few feet away, she knew why.

A claw, one of Ladon’s, severed from the knuckle down lay strewn in the grass. The dragon hissed as Beckendorf snatched it up, hefting his sword as (y/n) pulled Luke away.

He was bleeding badly. A deep gash ran from the tip of his brow down to the corner of his  mouth, somehow missing his eye but cutting just above and below. His skin was already becoming dangerously pale. Her hands were covered in blood. His blood. She was going to be sick.

“Hey,” she murmured, gently laying his head on her lap. Her hands trembled as she reached into her bag. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Luke shuddered, eyes half-lidded and struggling to find something to focus on. “Are you -?”

“I’m fine,” she said. After a terrible moment, one that took far too long, she pulled free a small vial of nectar, wrapped tightly in old face-cloths to keep it from smashing in her bag. Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she tried to unwrap it.

Beckendorf knelt beside her, claw at his side, and took the vial from her hands. She didn’t know how his hands could be so steady. She could hardly breathe. Not with Luke so injured, not with Ladon eyeing them hungrily.

He handed the vial back, and she propped Luke’s head up slightly. With a hiss of pain, she managed to open his mouth just enough to pour the small amount of nectar in. He swallowed with a struggle.

There was no telling how long it would take the nectar to work, but they couldn’t stay there under the watchful glare of Ladon, who looked ready to attack again. (y/n) took a trembling breath.

“Beckendorf,” she said, “are you able to carry him? At least until we can get out of this place. I can try - I can clean the wound when we’re safe.”

He nodded and hoisted Luke up into his arms, careful not to jostle his head too much.

She didn’t realise she had been crying until they stopped.

Beckendorf set Luke down on a soft patch of grass beyond the Garden, and (y/n) tucked her jacket underneath his head. The nectar seemed to be working, albeit slowly. Some colour was returning to his skin, but it was hard to see under all of the blood.

“You’re okay,” she murmured again, but she wasn’t sure who she was telling. She wiped her tears with the back of her hands.

She grabbed one of the face-cloths the vial of nectar had been wrapped in, soaking it in water from her water bottle, and slowly brought it to Luke’s face.

His eyes seemed to have some ability to focus now, watching her beneath a glaze of pain. It tore her soul in half to see him in pain, wincing as she gently dabbed the blood from his cheek. Her fingers were stained. His cheek was, too.

“I’m going to keep watch,” said Beckendorf. “Those Hesperides gave me a bad feeling.”

(y/n) nodded, watching for a moment as he trudged a few feet away, just out of earshot, but her focus soon returned to Luke. She tried not to think too much about how his hand was gripping her knee as she cleaned the rest of the blood.

“Is the nectar working?” she asked when she saw his eyes drooping. “What does it taste like?”

His gaze found hers, warm and cloudy. A pained smile fought its way onto his lips despite the slowly-healing scar on his cheek. She could see the skin trying to sew itself back together with the aid of the nectar.

“That smoothie you made a few months back with the - with the camp’s strawberries,” he uttered. “And whatever those green leaves were.”

She found herself smiling despite the red coating her hands. “Mint. And it was that good, huh? Last I checked, nectar for you tasted like that weird concoction of Coke and Sprite you liked so much.”

For a moment, his eyes grew distant before refocusing on her face. They flickered over her features as if seeing them for the first time. His hand felt awfully warm on her knee.

“Anything you make is better,” he said. 

“Is that so?” She brushed his hair back from his face softly, cleaning the last bits of blood.

His skin was still stitching itself back together, but the nectar seemed to have stopped the bleeding. Second by second, blood flooded back into his face, giving him the colour that seemed to have been leached from his skin.

He nodded, his smile seeming as though it pained him less. His hand slipped from her knee, coming up to wrap itself around hers. The cloth fell from her fingers and onto the grass. Her fingers were still wet, though in the dim light she couldn’t tell if it was from water or lingering blood. She didn’t have the stomach to find out.

“You said you didn’t bring me on this quest because of my mother,” she said cautiously. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “So why did you?”

A soft squeeze of her hand. “This wasn’t a quest I wanted to do without you,” he said. “I like having you by my side. You give me strength.”

She was sure he could feel her pulse beating rapidly in her fingers, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t need to. It was entirely likely that he was able to read her mind, he knew her so well. And she was okay with that.

“You’re stupid, you know,” she said, but her voice wavered.

“Stupidly brave?” he suggested. “Stupidly handsome? Stupidly charming?”

“I’m supposed to be supporting you right now,” she grumbled. “Not the other way around.”

His cocky grin was back and her heart fluttered. “Which one is it?”

“Which what?”

“Stupidly brave, handsome, or charming?”

All three, she thought. All three and so much more.

“Stupidly stupid,” she decided. 

Her thumb grazed his cheekbone, the one without the scar, and a shiver ran through his body. His hand tightened on hers and his smile softened into something more personal. It was the kind of smile she would have leapt into Tartarus to ensure its permanence on his lips. Soft and kind and reserved just for her. If she'd been standing, her knees would have buckled.

“You give me strength, too,” she murmured.

A sliver of hair slipped in front of her eyes, and moments later, Luke’s free hand was there, gently brushing it away. His eyes sparkled. They seemed clearer now, less agonised.

The events of the last hour - gods, it had felt like much longer - came crashing back onto her at his touch, asphyxiating and terrifying. Overwhelming guilt filled her veins and arteries with terrible speed, sapping all the strength from her bones. Her fingers trembled once more.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her throat felt suddenly raw. “If I’d done a better job distracting Ladon, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Luke’s eyes were dark for a moment, swirling with something she couldn’t identify, but they softened seconds later. His hand rested on her cheek, warm and comforting, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at his eyes now.

“This is not your fault,” he said, and his voice was remarkably strong. “This is the gods’ fault. It’s my father’s fault. But it is not your fault.”

She tried to believe him, truly she did, but looking at the fresh scar on his face, even having been almost entirely healed with nectar, had her heart heavy in her chest. 

He knew this. Gods, he knew her every thought. His hand slipped from hers, cupping her other cheek and tilting her head so that she would look at him properly. There was a flush to his cheeks now - good, it meant he was getting better. 

“My father did this,” he insisted. “You hear me? This was not you. And, gods, believe me when I say that I’m glad it was me that went for the apples and not you. I couldn’t live with myself if you got injured.”

But you did, she wanted to say - no, scream. How do I live with that?

“I’m okay,” he said softly, cautiously, as if talking to a child who had just woken from a nightmare. “I’m okay.”

His hand fell from her face, taking hers in its grip once more, and placed her fingers on the newly formed scar.

She jerked back, terrified that the sensation would cause him more pain, but he just gave her that smile again, the one that made her knees feel like jelly, and pressed her fingers to it once more. Already, the skin was raised and slightly twisted, accommodating for the injury. She could faintly feel his pulse beneath his skin, slow and infuriatingly steady.

“It doesn't hurt,” he promised. His voice was so reassuring that she could feel it in her bones, and she was half-convinced he was secretly a child of Aphrodite, blessed with charmspeak. “I’m okay because of you.”

Her throat was achy. “And Beckendorf.”

He gave a small laugh. “And Beckendorf. But mainly you. You’ve given me strength.”

It was then that the world itself seemed to stop. He was leaning upwards, bringing her face close to his, and his lips brushed hers so softly that she feared she may have been dreaming the entire encounter.

She could taste the faint remnants of metallic blood, though it was easily brushed aside. Luke’s lips were slightly wind-chapped but she found herself uncaring when they slotted perfectly against hers.

This kiss was something she had been waiting years for, and it was better than she could have ever dreamed. The feeling of his hands on her, his lips against hers, it was something that could not be replicated in a dream, like flying for the first time and feeling the clouds beneath your fingers.

It was addictive, more so than the stupid apples that had caused Luke such pain, and she found herself wanting more. It was an effort to pull away from him, but eventually, she did. Beckendorf was only a few feet away and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. It would make for an awkward journey home.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Luke murmured.

Finally, there was a smile tugging on her lips again. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

It took another hour or so before Luke was well enough to get moving. The dark trails gave all of them a bad feeling, and (y/n) wasn’t able to shake the almost hypnotic choral voices of the Hesperides until they were out of the State Park. Luke was shaky on his feet for a little while but his strength was returning.

And with it came anger.

Not anger at (y/n) or Beckendorf, no. He still smiled at them as usual, fingers entwined with (y/n)’s so tightly it was as though he was afraid she would slip away. Jokes still slipped past his lips despite the events of the evening.

But he was filled with fiery rage. It was hidden, but (y/n) could read him like a book. She had seen the inklings of it throughout the previous days of their quest, had seen it more clearly while she was cleaning the blood from his face - this anger, though, was pure. Harder to mask.

He had already been furious with his quest, a detail he had tried to keep hidden from her. He hated the idea of repeating history and the fact that this quest was simply made to satiate him, to prevent him from growing restless at camp and questioning the authority of the gods.

This was a breaking point.

It became clearer the more time passed. As the days and weeks went by, he would hold her hand like a lifeline and kiss her so softly it felt as though she was dreaming, but the anger never left. It ate away at him, dimming his smiles and reducing any respect he had left for the gods until there was nothing left but a shadow of what had once been there.

The scar never faded. It became a reminder of what he believed to be the gods’ failure. His failure.

He was still her Luke. The Luke she had known and loved since she was thirteen. She was just terrified of what he might become.

#givemea-dam-break #luke castellan x reader #pjo luke x reader #pjo luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #x reader #fanfiction #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo fanfiction

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Congrats on 300 folower 🎉🎉🎉 can I request caramel lily it's totally ok if you can't lol btw love the way you write

Thanks so much for the req! This is SO much plot with a bit of porn, I'm not sure what got into me here! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Sanji x Afab!Reader

WC: 2100 LOL

Prompt: “I’d eat 10 devil fruits if it meant I could see you naked.” 

— — 

It was Robin’s birthday, so you and the rest of the Straw Hats were enjoying an evening of drinking and celebrating. Empty bottles littered the dining room table and your captain was asleep and snoring on the deck, distended belly evident of his overindulgence. A few of your crew mates had returned to their quarters, the hour having grown late. You sat at the wooden table with Nami, Zoro, Franky and Robin playing cards while Sanji finished up dishes at the sink. You were all a bit tipsy, some more than others *cough* Zoro *cough* but it was clear the party was winding down. 

“I’m not tired yet. What if we made this game more interesting?” Robin made a suggestion and set her hand of cards down on the table. 

“*yawn* like a drinking game? I’m in.” Zoro takes another swig from his bottle of sake. 

“How about we put real money on the table? I know I’d kick your asses if there was actually something at stake.” Nami suggests. 

“I was actually thinking we could play strip poker.” Robin smirks as she makes the lewd proposal. 

*WOOOSH* 

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, Sanji was somehow squeezed in between Nami and Robin on the dining room bench when he was all the way across the room at the sink not a second ago. 

“What an incredible idea, Robin! And it is your birthday after all, so we should all do whatever Robin suggests!” Sanji hurriedly spits out with hearts in his eyes, seemingly out of breath from rushing over. 

“Absolutely not. If you think for a second that I’m going to-“ Nami protests. 

“Sure, I’m in.” Zoro interrupts her. 

“Yeah I’m down I guess.” You chime in, wanting to keep the party going. You had known these people for years now, they were your best friends. Everyone has a body, who cares if they see you naked? What’s the worst that could happen. 

“Aww come on, bros! That’s like super unfair! I’ll obviously lose first! This game is rigged!” Franky exclaims while gesturing to his lack of clothing. 

“Rigged against who? Perverts?” Zoro cocks his head and smirks. 

“Whatever, I’m out. I have maintenance to do on the engine anyway.” Franky excuses himself and heads down into the belly of the ship to finish his tasks. 

“Come on, Nami. We can still put real money on it. Well… most of us could, anyway…” Robin smirks as she looks at Zoro hunched over his drink at the other end of the table. “Hey! I have… some.. cash.. somewhere…” Zoro looks in his pockets and inside his sash trying to find some semblance of money. 

Nami sighed. She pulls a small stack of berries out of her pocket and puts it on the table in front of Zoro. 

“I’ll add this to your tab. I’m going to bed, goodnight guys.” She turns back to Zoro. “Don’t lose it all at once, idiot.” 

After Nami exits, the four of you that remained settled your first bets and started the first round of cards. 

Much to Sanji’s dismay, he lost the first three hands and has already removed his tie, sport coat and belt while the two beautiful women before him were still fully clothed. Zoro lost the next few, casually shedding his shirt and boots. Eventually, after many more hands of cards and many more bottles of booze, the four of you are all minimally clothed. Robin was winning, still in her bra and skirt. You were sat in your bra and panties, happy that you chose a nicer looking pair to wear today. The boys were both left in their pants. 

“Alright, guesshh I’m out…” a very drunk Zoro sighs out as he puts his losing hand down on the table. Wordlessly he stands up and pulls his pants down to his ankles. 

“OH MY GOD MY EYES-“ Sanji throws his head down on the table to shield himself from the now fully nude swordsman. “ROBIN? Y/N? AM I BLIND?” Sanji continues to scream towards the floor.

“WHY don’t you wear underwear! That’s gross! I do our laundry!” You exclaim with wide eyes. 

“Hmm.” Robin hums. “Carpet does match the drapes.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Screw you guyshhh… I.. I’m going to… to lie downshh…” Zoro stumbles fully naked out of the dining room. 

“I’m going to make sure he makes it back to his room…” Robin stands up and dresses herself. Hands sprout from the floor and gather Zoro’s shed clothing and neatly folds it into a pile. Robin grabs the pile and heads towards the door. “… and make sure he doesn’t permanently traumatize Chopper in the process.” 

The door slammed closed and you and Sanji were left alone at opposite sides of the table. 

Sanji cleared his throat. 

“Shall we play on, angel?” 

You roll your eyes. You were up tons of berries, there was no reason for you to keep playing, but something urged you to keep going. 

“Bring it on, Mr. Cook.” You give him a wink and you could swear your saw a drop of blood spill from his nose. 

Perhaps distracted by your tipsy flirting, Sanji loses the next hand and stands up from the table to remove his slacks. He returns to his seat quickly but not quick enough for the large bulge in his briefs to go unnoticed. You smirk. You spot his hands trembling as Sanji pushes his money into the center of the table for the next hand. 

“Wow, Sanji, that’s the last of your berries! What if you lose? How are you going to afford cigarettes this week? It’s worth that much to you?” You laugh and take a sip of your drink. 

“It’s not the money, angel.” Sanji looks across the table at you with sparkling eyes. “I’d pay any cost. I’d eat 10 devil fruits if it meant I could see you naked.” You couldn’t help but smile at his desperation. 

“Well…” You say teasingly. “Let’s play then.” 

Your confidence betrays you. You lose the hand. 

“Shit!” You throw your losing hand on the table. You rub your eyes with your hand, realizing that you have very little left to remove. The air in the room is different from before. Earlier it had been four crew mates laughing and goofing around, now the air was heavy with tension. It was just you and Sanji, sitting across from each other in your underwear. He was handsome and you found yourself admiring his lithe, slim body. You couldn’t help yourself from becoming aroused. 

“Well, fair is fair.” You push the money back towards Sanji and move your hand behind your back to unhook your bra. Your other arm held the cups of your bra in place over your chest as you undid the clasp. You look across the table at Sanji and his mouth was hanging open in anticipation. You aren’t sure why, but you decide to tease him a bit. You use your arm holding your breasts to push them up and together before you let them fall out of your bra, bouncing dramatically. 

“Merde, y/n…” Sanji couldn’t pry his gaze from your bare tits. 

“We still have one more round to play, don’t we?” You pick up a new hand of cards and hold it with both hands. Doing this, you push your naked breasts together with your elbows, teasing the poor cook further. 

“I… Y-yes…” Sanji grabs another hand while shaking himself out of his stupor. 

You had four of a kind, there was no way you could lose. You were going to make off with all the money and Sanji’s dignity. 

“Royal Flush.” 

“What?!” You balk at the cards Sanji had laid on the table. It was his turn to lean back in his seat and smirk. You were speechless. You stared blankly at the table for a few moments before you slide out from your seat on the bench. Sanji watched you intently. 

You turn around so that your back is towards him. You hook both of your thumbs into the sides of your light pink panties. You bent forward at the hip, poking your ass closer to Sanji’s face. You slowly, dramatically peel your panties down your bottom, revealing your supple skin inch by inch. Sanji groans as your glistening cunt is revealed to him. You straighten your back and step out of your panties. You turn around. 

“Well, Sanji. Looks like you won. I guess you could take the money…” You slink towards him and swiftly hop onto his lap, straddling his trapped erection. You place both your hands on the side of his face to make him look up at you. You gently grind your bare pussy onto his throbbing crotch. 

“Or you could have me…” You purr at him, lips almost touching. 

Sanji takes no time to weigh his options before slamming his mouth onto yours. His hands fly into your hair, trying to force your lips impossibly closer to his. His tongue forces its needy way into your mouth. You kiss wildly for several minutes before you snake your hand down Sanji’s slender torso and lift your pelvis up so you can free his aching cock from its confines in his silk briefs. You give his member a few slow strokes before Sanji whimpers into your mouth desperately. 

“Mmm… Y/n.. please…” Sanji mutters. 

You pull away and kiss down his neck. 

“Please what, Mr. Cook? I can’t quite understand…” You seductively whisper out. You lick and suck his collarbone as you continue to pump his cock. 

“Need you…” Sanji is panting like he ran a marathon, he can’t handle your teasing anymore.

“Need me what, Sanji? Come on… tell me what you need…” You bring your hand that isn’t wrapped around his member up to his chest to tweak and squeeze at his nipple. Sanji lets out a high pitched moan. 

“Need to be inside you, please angel, let me feel you…” Sanji grips your hips suddenly and firmly. He could barely form a coherent sentence. You giggled. 

“Hm…. Fair is fair…” You smiled as you lifted your pelvis and aligned Sanji’s cock up with your hole before slowly sinking down him. The stretch overwhelmed you at first as you moved your hands up to grip at his shoulders tightly. 

“Shit, angel… so tight and wet…” Sanji buries his face in your breasts as you adjust your body to his length. 

“Fuck…” You moan softly as you begin to bounce softly on Sanji’s cock. He was thicker than expected, and the anticipation had your body alight with sensation. 

“Does it feel nice, my love? Is my cock good for you? Please tell me…” Sanji breaths out as you use him for your pleasure, trying to contain his own release. 

“Mmmh…” You let out a moan as you switch from bouncing to grinding yourself onto the blonde’s slim hips. “You feel so good inside me, baby… you’re doing so good for me…” You rub your clit into the base of his shaft as Sanji hits that sweet spot inside of you. You bring your gaze to look into his eyes. Those gorgeous ice-blue eyes stared up at you with what could only be described as adoration and amazement. You saw tears well in his glazed eyes, he was clearly so lost inside the pleasure that was your warm cunt. 

“So good…” You continued to praise him. “Gonna cum…” You throw your head back and grip Sanji’s shoulders tighter. 

“Please cum on me, angel, want to feel your pussy when you cum, please…” You hear Sanji’s muttering but you were too focused on reaching your peak. 

You shriek out a loud moan as your orgasm rolls through your body. You fall forward into Sanji’s neck and stop your movements as the spasms slow down. Sanji picks up the slack and pumps his hips upwards into yours, finally able to let go. 

“Fuck, love, I’m cumming!” Sanji slams your hips down onto his and works his load deep into your cunt with a loud groan. 

After you both catch your breath from the intense love-making session you had just experienced in the dining room, you slide yourself off of Sanji’s cock and sit onto the seat next to him. You put your head on his shoulder, feeling exhausted. 

Sanji reached for his pack of cigarettes, desperately needing one after his climax. He finds the pack empty. He looks at all the money that is now rightfully yours on the table. 

“So…. I might need to borrow a little cash this week…” 

#one piece #one piece anime #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #roronoa zoro #straw hat pirates #zoro x reader #law x reader

[retnym]

WORLD TOUR- .09

"Sir, you can not be in here."

“[Name]!” A voice screamed into my ear, jolting me awake from my sleep. Covering the top of my body with a blanket since I slept in a tank top I tiredly stare at my abuser. “What time is it?” I groan, lifting a hand over my eyes due to the light coming in from the bus windows. “Time to get off the bus.” Bill laughs, Georg was next to him eating a granola bar. Rolling my eyes I laid back down. Springroll made a little noise, wiggling in my side to get comfortable again. 

I glance over at the clock and it was only 8:30 in the morning. It does seem like the bus is stopped though so I fix my shirt and stand up unfortunately to Springroll. “Where is everyone else?” I stretch my arms into the air, moaning at the feeling. 

“They all went into the hotel already. The hotel said they had a buffet open.” Georg explains as Bill was already running off. I’m surprised he’s up and so energetic. Usually, he’s the complete opposite of me. Being bitchy and annoyed with everyone. I just know someone’s going to say something that irritates me. 

I lift Springroll into my arms. Luckily this hotel takes pets they said they actually prefer cats coming in over dogs. Less noisy. 

“Ah, I’m going to find a hoodie. I’ll join everyone in a minute.” I tell him, he just nods, listening to what I say. After what happened with the managers I got a call from Jace the same night. He told me he’s going to join our last two shows before we leave for the United States. Something that is really going against what my managers want. They do not want me seen with anyone other than bandmates or really just Tom. Something I wish I could argue on. 

Tom has been a bit sweeter but still avoidant from me. I should be the one avoiding him. He said that stuff about me and ever since the meltdown he’s now looking at ways to get away from me or get out of a conversation when I join it. He’s doing the exact opposite of what we were told to do in public as well. He’s going to get us yelled at once again. 

Whatever his deal is he needs to chill. He could’ve told me to stop holding his hand or leaning on him if he wanted to but he told me I was okay. Ugh, I shouldn’t be stressing over my frustration with him. 

It was another thing I tried talking to Jace about but every time I go to complain about Tom or anything for that matter he talks about himself and switches the whole subject.

It’s really weird. 

Anywho, I threw on a grew crewneck and slipped on shows as I got off the bus. I held Springroll as I walked in the breeze to get into the large building. A security guard had opened the door, a quiet thank you slipping out of my mouth in passing. 

I joined the group and got a plate of my own. The others had either finished their food or were getting seconds right now. Tom was ahead of me getting fruit and cereal so I silently crept up to him. “Strawberries and raspberries?” I snicker, it’s the same thing every time he picks fruit. That or pineapple too. “Yeah?” He scoffs and I just lift one hand up in defense. 

“4 more shows until the U.S.A!” I cheered the last part jokingly and he just laughs shaking his head. “How do you feel?” I ask him. 

“Oh you know, I get to party. Have fun with some girls.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I scrunch my nose pretending to be disgusted. I really felt a pang in my stomach. Weird.

“I wish, I got stuck with Jace now.” I dramatically say, obviously, it was a joke just like his sort of was meant to be but we all know he was telling the truth. “Whose fault is that?” He gave me a look and I furrow my eyebrows. “What does that mean?” 

“I mean, you chose to date him even after questioning it.” He points out but for some reason, it just hits me the wrong way. “Don’t throw that in my face,” I tell him, he just takes a bite of a strawberry. “You’re the one who complained to me.” Tom reminds me and I stare at him for a minute, pressing my lips together tightly. “I’ll make sure to never do that again, don’t worry.” I huff, walking away from him. 

Sure it may have seemed like I asked for that. Maybe I was a little over dramatic with walking away but I’m happy with whatever relationship I have with Jace. Obviously, I was having a hard time with it but I shouldn’t have that thrown in my face. 

I think…

No, I shouldn’t! Screw Tom, I need to stop talking to him. Why do I do this to myself?

I make my way over to Johanna, she’s finally not around Gustav where I can talk to her myself. 

“[Name], want to go to a spa later!?” She points to a spa room and my eyes widen. Ever since performing, I’ve had a terrible ache in my back. “Yes!” I hold onto her arm excitedly. “Didn’t think you’d be that happy about a spa.” She laughs. 

“You have no idea.” I grin. “Want to bring Bill?” I look over at the black and white-haired boy who sat with Georg. He finally lost the energy he once had to annoy me. 

“Of course.” She takes a quick drink from her apple juice. 

I’m going to have to figure out who will watch my cat or just take her with me and see if they will allow her to just sit in her little cage or something. 

After eating we told Bill about the spa and we ended up letting the boys know what we were doing before sneaking off without warning. That means they had to unpack the bus without us into our rooms. Like normal the boys shared their room and then Johanna and I got our room. Tom ended up taking Springroll even though he looked against it. He, Georg, and Gustav promised to look after her. 

“Dude this is going to be amazing.” Bill shakes me from behind, he held onto my shoulders as we waited for the ladies to get their set up ready. They already got us changed into just robes. 

One lady steps out and she seems pretty nervous as she looks at us. “So, you three are going to have to be separated. One in one room and two in the other. I apologize if that’s an inconvenience.” She bows her head down in sorrow as if we were going to get pissed. I raise my hand super quick though. “I’ll be separated.” I laugh. Bill gasps. “I want to be separated.” He pouts as Johanna just looks at us like what the fuck. 

The lady seemed a lot more relaxed after we picked who was going where. Johanna is going to be separated since it’s only fair. She’s paying for the extra things. 

I ended up getting a man masseuse. This confused me because I didn’t see him in the beginning but I’m not objectifying anything, this man is attractive. I shouldn’t be thinking that though. Sadly I have a boyfriend who prevents those thoughts. 

There was still a separation between Bill and me as we had a curtain there. Once he was done cleaning off the table he helped me up and took the robe off leaving me in a towel so when I laid down he put it just below my lower back. He didn’t even look my way either. He was a gentleman y’all. 

“Is there any area you want specifically?” He asks, opening the bottle of oil. “My back, in the middle really,” I inform him, I completely laid my face into the hole and relaxed my once very tense body. I thought this was going to be weird at first but after getting the hang of everything around me it seemed nice. Also I really just need to relax in general.

Hearing Bill hum a few times I tried hard not to laugh. Then I heard the door open. My masseuse suddenly stopped, whispering to whoever opened the door and since I was closest I listened in. Bill probably wouldn’t have been able to since he chose to have music playing. Like one of those elevator types but more enjoyable. 

“Sir, you cannot be in here.” My masseuse tells the person. “I’m sorry, it’s kind of an emergency. I’m Bill’s brother.” 

Tom? Of course he ruins this for us. 

Emergency?

“Kind of an emergency?” He questions in return. “Okay, it’s an emergency for the girl. To [Name]. Well, it will be if you don’t let me tell her.” He seemed out of breath, and this started to worry me, I lifted my face up and it was very bright. Having to get used to it I see Tom playing with his hands as he was trying to convince this man to let him through. 

“Um, it’s okay,” I tell the masseuse who seemed annoyed by now. Probably thinking he wasn’t going to get paid. 

I adjust myself to sit up, covering my chest. The guy helps me put my robe back on. “What’s going on?” I roll my eyes, fixing the robe but he takes my arm and pulls me outside of the room. “Tom!? Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?” I glare at him.

“Springroll, she uh... She got loose somewhere in the hotel.” He sighs, and my eyes widen. My baby… The love of my life. Loose in a hotel… that we are only staying at for three nights. This huge ass hotel and my cat is missing. “Are you,” I cut myself off to take a deep breath. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I shout in a whisper-type way. He shushes me, looking around. “She couldn’t have gotten far this just happened. I let a worker know too.” He tells me, placing a hand on my shoulder but I shove it off. 

“You better fucking find her, Tom Kaulitz.” I shove his chest. “Pay for my thing for me I’m going to look for her,” I order him, running out of the room in the short-ass robe.

Tom I guess told Bill and Johanna since they are change back into their clothes and joined me in searching for my cat. 

“I’m so going to beat your brother’s ass for this.” I tear up, I stop and put a hand on my forehead. “Me too, I’m so sorry [Name].” Bill brings me into a hug and I break down crying. 

“This is my baby, we have to find her, Bill.” I push away and carry back down the hall.

It’s been 45 minutes in and we still can’t find her. We were currently separated searching for her. The workers said they would keep an eye out on her and walkie other workers to get one of us. 

“What if we can’t find her?” I mumble, tears still streaming down my face. “We will, don’t talk like that.” Bill snaps at me, and we continue down the long hallway.

“Here, let’s change the subject to sort of get your mind off this.” He starts and I deadpan at him. How is anything going to get my mind off of my Springroll? My tan tabby baby. 

“What’s your deal with Tom?” He raises an eyebrow and I give him a look. “What?” I mutter out, what the fuck does he mean. “I mean, why do you hate him so much. Growing up we were all so close. You were probably closer to him than me.” He explains, my eyes go straight to the floor then back to looking around, remembering what we were doing in the first place. I shook the treat bag one more time before speaking up. 

“It’s not my place to speak on.” I bite on my bottom lip and he stops suddenly. “[Name], you two obviously aren’t over it. Please just tell me.” I stop as well and turn to face him since he was now a few steps behind. “Bill, it’s not important right now. My cat is missing. I’m not worrying about my relationship with your twin brother.” I exclaim a little bit louder than intended. Shaking the bag again I continue looking. 

It was silent for a few moments before he speaks again. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He apologizes. I just hum, turning the hall. “I think it’s best we go different ways. I’ll talk to you about it later.” I frown, he just says okay and does as I say. Going in the other direction.

Thinking about what he asked I fixed my robe once more, tying it tighter. 

Why would he ask that so suddenly? Why I and Tom didn’t like each other anymore. He didn’t even question it when it happened I figured he knew or was told. I thought it was something everyone knew but didn’t speak on. 

Maybe I was wrong.

“I like you [Name], I do.” He tells me and I smile sweetly. “Then ask me out already.” I grab onto his arm, leaning my head onto his shoulder as we sat side by side on my porch in the backyard by the pool. “Not yet.” He whispers. 

“If you like me, what’s stopping you?” I laughed, not exactly understanding what was happening. “[Name], you deserve someone better.” He explains and I look up at him. “You’re quite enough, Tom.” I stare into his eyes as he sadly looked back into mine. “Not yet…” He repeats.

“I’m leaving, anything you want to say?” I ask in a hopeful tone towards Tom who just sat on the couch with a blank expression. “Have fun.” He mumbles. I make my way over to him and place my hands on my hips. “That's it? I’m leaving for five months and that’s it?” I scrunch my nose, confused as he just sat there. “[Name] we can’t be together, stop holding onto something that is not there!” He suddenly exasperates and I take a single step back.

I blink a few times, mainly holding back tears but not understanding what he is saying. “You said you liked me.” I simply state. “You said eventually we’d be something. Your words have me holding on. If you had just told me this was going to be a waste I would’ve been done a long time ago.” My voice breaks embarrassingly as I try my hardest not to raise or lower my voice. 

“You told me the distance wouldn’t hurt us.” I cried out, he gets up from his spot and suddenly I feel stupid for even saying anything. Realizing we’re only 14, how could 14-year-olds be so dramatic. 

“It’s not the distance. It’s me. I can’t do it.” He goes to touch me but I step back again. “Why?” 

He just stares at me in response.

“Tom. Don’t speak to me when I come back.” I walk out of the room. 

Looking back at it, it was pretty dramatic. And hey, it could be but he gave me a lot of confusing gestures. He was sweet to me, he did everything that a normal boyfriend would do. He just wouldn’t put the label or do anything in public and I never understood why. 

When I came back though he did as I asked, he never spoke a word but that turned into us arguing and then it was constant. We couldn’t stand each other. Now here we are 17 and 18 years old still hating each other for no reason other than we decided not to date at 14 almost 15 years old. 

When I came back after those five months I had turned 15 and met Jace. Since Tom hated him off the bat I dated him in spite of Tom. Maybe not the best way to start a relationship but he loved me. He showed me things I never knew about myself.

I will never tell him why our relationship started but that’s okay. He doesn’t need to know. 

“[Name]!!!” A voice screams down the hall and my head snaps their way. It was Tom holding Springroll as he ran over to me, I met him halfway and took her from his arms. “Oh my fucking god!” I screamed, sliding against the wall to the ground, holding Sringroll to my face. 

“Don’t do that again, you stupid cunt.” I whispered in her ear and Tom laughed, kicking my legs. “Cover your legs.” He mutters just loud enough for me to hear as people started walking past. I look down and remember I’m in a robe, doing as he told I shake my head. Utterly embarrassed.

“Nice pink underwear though. Gotta say I didn’t see you as the type.” He laughs and I kick his shins causing him to hiss, falling next to me.

“Thank you,” I say after we calmed down a bit. I turn my head to look at him, he was looking at the wall across from us. 

“I’m sorry for losing her.” He turns his face and we end up being centimeters apart. Our noses almost touched. For a moment we sit there just silent. It felt entrancing. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I was stuck. 

It felt like he was getting closer, our noses now scraping each other every time we breathed.

Springroll makes a high-pitched meow and I let out a breath pushing back from the trance I felt myself once in. His eyes squeezed shut, mentally cursing at himself. 

“I uh, I gotta change and apologize to my masseuse.” I awkwardly laugh, using his knee I stood up. He just nods and I speed walk down the hall, once he was out of sight I leaned against another wall. Taking in a deep breath. 

What was that?

Honestly, I had no idea what this chapter was going to be and I wasn't even going to have drama in another chapter but this was fun and I wanted to start giving a little backstory on their hatred for each other. This is also I think the longest chapter so far. Crazy crazy.

#bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #x reader

[keeponquinning]

I bet JQ would know exactly how to fix a bad day. Imagine coming home to dinner already cooking and the bathroom ready for you while he finishes cooking. You could just totally forget about how bad your day was

I had to eat and be human again but yes??? fluff ahead. established relationship.

Just Joe knowing how stressful your workload has been lately, from the little texts you're able to go back and forth on during your breaks, that aren't really breaks, but working lunch because it's just been you on these days. When you get home and your brain is just a loud buzzing noise, just numb, just so tired, thirsty, hungry, and body sore... You smell his cooking straight away.

Your stomach growls, actually growls because it was craving the actual sit down and eat meal he could deliver. Your lunch at work was quick and easy, and interrupted almost every time you took a bite and was rushed. Nothing to savor or enjoy, but Joe? Cooking your favorite meal? His eyes would find yours as he turned his head from the kitchen, the sight of his smile made you want to weep.

"Go on," he said, nudging his head toward the bathroom. "Food's not done yet, but, I've ran you a bath. Still hot, still bubbling. Sit your tired body there while I finish, yeah? I'll check in on you when it's done."

Not even needing to be talked into it, your shoes being the first to slip off you, aching feet appreciating you for it. You're almost giddy as you get to the bathroom and see the grand bath tub of your dreams filled with water, bubbles, and your favorite scent hitting your nose. A cheese and fruit plate right beside it, he had timed it so carefully, and soon your clothes slid off and piled neatly to the side, and you sunk in.

He was right, the water was heated still, and perfect. Enveloping you in a warmth that melting the fatigue and frustration of the day straight away. Sinking underwater, submerging fully before rising up again with a sigh. Aching muscles seemed light, and you let out a sigh. You sit there for a moment, just enjoying, basking in it all, and then you start indulging in the snack your boyfriend laid out for you. It was understood you were meant to savor it, yet your hungry stomach practically devoured, smiling softly as the sound of your playlist started, knowing it was his doing as well.

You drifted off for a bit, coming to when you felt his lips at your cheek. Opening your eyes to see him chuckling softly, knelt down beside the bath tub, looking at you with those warm brown eyes. "Enjoying yourself? Should I be offended I put you to sleep?"

He laughed more as you splash him, chuckling right along with him. "Shut up. That's so not what happened..."

"Mm? What happened, then?" he asked, tease in his voice, his smile, his eyes, propping his chin at the rim of the bath as he looked at you with the most adoring eyes.

Taking in a deep breath, turning your head to look at him with a smile, "Just you being annoyingly perfect, that's all."

"Oh, annoyingly perfect?" he asked and you hummed in response. "Is your day better, though?"

"Very." It was his turn to hum in response, mockingly, which made you smile more. "Almost perfect."

His brow furrowed, raising his head, a look of almost offense on his face. "I'm sorry—almost perfect? How do we do away with that almost bit, then?"

Another hum flowed from you, your eyes looking over at him, over his clothes...

"....just want me for my body," he let out with a teasing pout. "Luckily... I'm fine with that, hey," he lets out, lifting his shirt over his head. "Whatever makes my girl happy, yeah?" His face seems to brighten as you whistle and laugh at him, lifting himself up and undoing his pants. Doing away with his clothes as hastily as he could before making an absolute mess as he dove right into the tub with you. Not caring of the mess, the furthers from his mind as his arms wrap around you and kissing your face. A flurry of kisses. All to just make you squeal with laughter more and more, because that's what he strives for. To see the smile on your face, hear your laugh and as he settles close to you, both of your smiling lips meeting each other in kiss after kiss...

What he loves the most is taking your bad day away... Casting it out.... And making it a good one by the end. After all, you've done the same for him so many times... He doesn't know if he could ever truly match up to the joy that you bring him every day, but damn, he's willing to try each and every time.

#joseph quinn rpf #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fluff #— musings & blurbs #this actually made me feel peace 😩

[lunerna21]

Moonlight Adoration (Jamil Viper x MC)

Jamil Viper x MC

By: Lunerna21

Side Note: (Bold: Jamil, Italic: MC, Both: Jamil + MC) Enjoy! ❤️

You dusted off your hands, glimpsing around, satisfied with the finished outcome of the lounge. Finally, after Crowley gave you numerous tasks and jobs and took practically every moment of your freedom, you had a weekend off. And after working several hours to complete your assignments and projects, you were officially caught up. Thank heavens.

A weekend to sit back, unwind, and enjoy yourself. The weather was supposed to be perfect, and Grim had noted he would spend time with Ace and Deuce on some missing assignments. Which meant no babysitting the three of them and whatever they might plan. Even the ghosts unexpectedly visited some of their families outside Night Raven College.

It was a weekend well deserved. Nothing was going to stop you from enjoying it.

You relaxed against the cushion, marveling at the spotless and immaculate lounge. Now you could sit back, read a book, or even go for a pleasant stroll. Anything would've been a lovely change of pace.

You had yet to remember the last time you weren't off or busy doing something for Crowley on the weekend. It was great spending time with the others, but you also loved having time to yourself. 

You sat up to glance at the clock, only 12:30 pm. You could whip up a quick lunch and sit to catch up on some reading.  

Your phone shakes in your pocket, checking it. You unlocked your phone, noticing Cater, Lilia, and Kalim posing for a pic from the Pop Music Club. They must've had another concert during the week. Shame that you had to miss it.

While scrolling through the photos, you lingered on one of Kalim and Jamil. Kalim looked cheerful and innocent with his giant grin. Jamil looked as if he was enduring being dragged out by Kalim. 

Jamil. One of the many vice house wardens who was invariably relied on for virtually anything. They accepted any burden without asking questions, whether insignificant or substantial. 

That also fell onto Jamil. After his overblot, he pledged to restore his reputation at the school, and it was pleasant to see a different side of Jamil that was his authentic self. Not the person who would hand away opportunities because of his status or suppress  himself behind another front.

Still, it did sadden you to see Jamil bearing on whatever mishaps Kalim was thrown into or initiated. But it only partly prevented how often it still occurred. Kalim had become more mindful of how Jamil should be regarded and, without a doubt, adjusted his habits.  

But of course, Kalim has his moments.

Maybe you would stop by the dorm and see how they were doing. It was relaxing spending time in Scarabia, and you wouldn't mind visiting how things were going.

And, of course, to lessen Jamil of his endless tasks.

You pulled up Kalim's contact and prayed stopping by would be fine. After a bit, the phone picked up." Hey, Hey (y/n)! It's good to hear from you!" Kalim answered with his hyperactive style. "Hey, Kalim! Are you guys doing anything today? I was wondering if I could come over and hang out for a bit?" You asked. 

"Yeah, I don't mind! We can parade through the desert, eat fruit and ice cream, and—!"

"Kalim, who're you talking to?"

You heard Jamil through the phone, praying that anything would persuade Jamil to permit you to come over. "It's (y/n)! She was asking if it was okay to come over." Kalim answered. Jamil hesitated a beat before asking for the phone.

You were slightly panicked, comprehending he questioned why you offered to come over. What could you offer him? Food to feed Kalim? Spend some time with Kalim so he has time to be alone? It needed to be more believable. Truthfully, you wished to spend more time with Jamil and learn about himself that he had suppressed for so long.

"Prefect? What do you want?" Jamil questioned bluntly. Of course, Jamil drove straight to the point.

"Hi, Jamil. I don't mean to bother you; I was wondering if it was okay if I came by for a bit." You replied, yet it sounded hesitant and frail. Yikes, way to go with sounding convincing (y/n).

"I'm presuming that would include Grim as well?" You laughed a bit, Jamil making it painfully apparent why he asked.

"No Grim this time. I just finished cleaning Ramshackle dorm, so I wanted to see if you wanted any assistance with cleaning or chores." Jamil paused over the phone, and your uncertainty grew.

"A-And, of course, spend time with both you and Kalim! If that's okay, of course…." you trailed off, subconsciously holding your breath. You heard a deep sigh on the other line before Jamil spoke again.

"That's fine. As long as I don't have to babysit you along with Kalim." Thank god he agreed! You bounced up and down ecstatically.

"Perfect! I mean, you won't have to worry about me; I'll be glad to give you a hand with anything. Do you need me to get anything before I head over?"

"I'll text you what I need. Be prepared for whatever tasks I may have you do."

~~~~~~

"C'mon inside! It's great to have you here today, (y/n)!" Kalim welcomed you as you strode into Scarabia's lounge. Jamil sat on one pillow near the table, scanning what seemed like a checklist.

"Thanks for letting me come over." You smiled at Kalim, your gaze shifting to Jamil as you beamed at him. He nodded, standing up.

"So you were cleaning Ramshackle dorm earlier? And by yourself?" Jamil spoke up as he held the checklist underneath his arm.

"Yes! Grim's with Deuce and Ace this weekend, and I hadn't had a chance to get a thorough cleaning done. So, I'm here to give you a hand with whatever you throw at me!" You grinned. Kalim laughed and agreed.

"Thanks! Jamil felt today would be a cleaning day as well." Kalim noted, turning to look toward Jamil. "Great minds think alike with the two of you!"

You reddened at the praise, yet you couldn't help how your heart jumped. "No, no, Jamil's leagues ahead of me. I only have to worry about Grim, while Jamil has more responsibilities than me." You trekked down the steps, setting down your bag and pivoting to the two boys. "So, where do we begin?" 

Jamil held the list, scrolling through several pages. "We can start with dusting each of the rooms. There's no slacking off, and I won't pamper you both if you do a lousy job. Got it?" Jamil stated curtly. Kalim and you both nodded. Kalim dashed towards the hallway before halting and turning to you both.

"I'll start with the others on the other side of the dorm! I'll dust every inch of the rooms; you'll see!" He stated before racing off. You chuckled at Kalim's boundless energy and charisma. Something that most students at Night Raven College had zero of.

"So, I'll start over by the balcony if that's alright with you, Jamil?" He nodded, tossing you a duster and dusting areas in the dorm lounge. At least you would be able to spend some time with Jamil. 

Azul was admittedly correct; it was a breath of fresh air seeing a different side of Jamil—the real side of Jamil Viper. Reading Jamil's feelings after exposing his true self to everyone was still tricky.

You glimpsed at Jamil, his back to you as he thoroughly wiped off the drapes near the balcony. What other duties and tasks did Jamil have each day? How many hours had he been working while balancing his schoolwork?

How long had Jamil felt this impending loneliness before his overblot? Watching Jamil lash out in his torment and rage at Kalim was heartbreaking. How many students struggled to bite their tongues or follow orders throughout their lives?

It was disconcerting that Jamil could turn to no one for guidance or help, only for him to bottle his sentiments before he snapped from the weight of everything. 

Jamil must've sensed your gaze; he peeked over his shoulder toward you. You flinched, blushing that he noticed you gazing at him oddly.

"Is something wrong? You're staring." Jamil questioned. You shook your head furiously, redirecting your attention to cleaning as you spoke. "No, sorry! It's incredible seeing you handle all these tasks and duties well!" 

Jamil shrugged at your praise, diverting to another area and continuing dusting. "This is nothing. It's just something I generally do when taking care of Kalim." You nodded, moving closer as you cleaned off the detailed Scarabian drapes.

"Well, I'm glad I can help alleviate you of some of those tasks. I owe you, after all."

"Oh? How so?"

You skimmed some dust adhering to your clothing. "Maybe when Grim practically begs for more of your food every time he sees you?" you giggled at the image while Jamil scowled at the memory.

"I can hardly blame him; the dishes I've eaten were incredible. No surprise Kalim and Grim rave about your meals." you smiled toward Jamil, yet he turned away from your compliment. Jamil was consistently spotted with a hoodie to hide or when he'd display any emotions.

You wished you could drag down his hood and kiss his troubles away. So numerous secretive secrets Jamil kept concealed, and one day you'd hope to help alleviate him of whatever he may be going through.

"Thank you, (y/n). Anyway, let's proceed to the next room. I'd rather not be cleaning all day, regarding we have more to do."

"Yeah. That's why I'm here to help!" you followed behind Jamil. 

Yet you were upset that he had brushed off the praise. Jamil deserved nothing but happiness for himself. He was fascinating, captivating, and mesmerizing. 

If only Jamil could see how you felt about him.

~~~~~~~

You and Jamil wiped every inch of the lounge, moving to the other rooms. In less than an hour, dusting was checked off the checklist. 

The checklist consisted of going through the food reserves and polishing the kitchen to be pristine. You had vastly more admiration for Jamil. How did he find time to work on his schoolwork and attend basketball practice? All while overlooking Kalim, the dorm students, and whatever shenanigans he had to deal with?

Most of the list was completed, so Kalim compelled Jamil to take a break (of course, Jamil was against the idea, but you reassured Jamil you'd keep an eye on things), and he agreed ultimately.

You joined Kalim as you walked through Scarabia's halls, inspecting every room before moving on to whatever was next on the checklist.

"Whew! Cleaning takes its toll on you!" Kalim laughed while cracking his limbs. You nodded, cracking your fingertips and feeling your body aching from cleaning Ramshackle and Scarabia. "Yeah, you're not kidding! It was good to give Jamil a break; let's see how long he "rests." you sigh while massaging your aching limbs. Several students waved as you passed, reaching a small balcony overlooking Scarabia's large fountain.

Kalim hesitated as if pondering what was on his mind, whatever seemed to change his mood drastically. "Hey," you delicately place a hand on his arm and pivot him towards you. "What is it? You can talk to me about anything, Kalim."

Kalim's face falters into pain, glimpsing over the railing. "I want Jamil to unwind more. I never understood how much he suffered bottling up his emotions only to satisfy my family and me." Kalim reflected, dwelling on the images of Jamil over blotting.

"I've been given everything because of my family. But it's different for him. Jamil couldn't do anything for so long, hiding his true potential. I wonder how often he had to hand opportunities to me. All because of our status." You grabbed Kalim's hand, squeezing it tightly as you let him continue.

"Jamil's overblot was an eye-opening experience. I don't want him ever to feel that way again. I promised myself that I'd help him more often. He's got more on his plate than I do. But…” 

"But you feel like you're not doing enough, right?"

"Huh?"

You paused, leaning against the railing as you spoke. "Trust me; I understand where you're coming from. I felt that way the moment I entered Twisted Wonderland. Seeing you all going through your troubles, facing your demons. I wish I could get rid of everyone's demons."

"It's the same for you, Kalim. I want you to be happy and never worry about being in harm's way, only to appreciate your moments here at NRC. Jamil too."

Kalim grew silent, yet you didn't notice as you continued.

"I want to be there to help Jamil. Whether it be minor or something he's struggling with, I want him to come to you or me and never have to keep his feelings in check. Even though I have no magic, I'll do anything to help Jamil. He deserves it, after all." 

You stopped yourself, turning away to hide your flushed cheeks. "Sorry. I didn't mean to go on a tangent. I'm here for you if you need anything, Kalim." You shifted towards him, stunned to see him at a loss for words. 

"K-Kalim? Oh, Great Sevens, was it something I said? I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to ramble!"

"(y/n), do you like Jamil?"

Your cheeks quickly flushed, cursing yourself that you couldn't maintain a straight face at his sudden question. "What do you mean? Uh, of course not!" you stammered, but Kalim saw through your lies. He didn't call you out, only waiting for you to concede.

"D-Damn. Is it obvious?" Kalim giggled, not at your admittance but at how flustered you quickly became. "At first, no. But what you said about Jamil and how you looked when talking about him made it pretty clear." You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly, uncertain how to respond after he made it evident.

"Please keep that between us. Okay?" you begged while glancing down the balcony. "Of course. But I don't think you have to worry about that." Kalim muttered the last part to himself while giggling. You raised an eyebrow at him until Kalim's phone chimed.

"Oh, sorry." Kalim drew out his phone, scanning through whatever it was before chuckling, shifting his eyes to you.

"Well, this might be an opportunity for you to help Jamil."

"Eh, what do you mean?"

~~~~~~~

You took in a deep breath, then knocked on the door.

"Jamil? It's (y/n)."

"Come in. Quickly." You opened the door slowly, skimming around to see Jamil pressing himself against the wall on his bed, an embarrassed rosiness on his cheeks. It was a sight to behold; you'd laugh a bit if it weren't for Jamil's imploring eyes.

"Where's the bug?" Just mentioning the "b" word, Jamil's skin crawled as he pointed toward his desk. "I-I found it somewhere near my notebooks. Just don't squish it near my belongings." You smiled at him, stepping up to his desk and inspecting it thoroughly.

You found a mini beetle crawling away from his notebook after being discovered, delicately scooping it up in your hands. Jamil curled back in repulsion, eyeing you as you turned to him while holding the beetle.

"I got it. Can I toss it out the window?" Jamil quickly nodded, stiff and distraught, until it was gone. Teasingly, you stepped closer, and Jamil drew back, practically cradling the wall.

"D-Don't do that!"

"Haha, sorry, sorry! I'm kidding! I'll get rid of it." you bent your hands under the window's space, watching as it fluttered far enough from Jamil's room. "There. It's gone, I promise." 

Jamil was physically relaxed, about to slide off his bed, before he paused.

"Huh? What's wrong?"

"I don't know if there are other bugs." 

"You mean in your room?"

"Y-Yeah." he glanced away, avoiding your stare as if embarrassed to be seen as vulnerable. You faltered as his eyes glimpsed around his bedroom. He was somewhat laxer than before but still apprehensive about the thoughts of other bugs in his room.

"Is it okay if I investigate for you?" you offered. Jamil eyed you skeptically, still refusing to leave the safety of his bed. "I'm just gonna look around and see if there are other bugs. Nothing else."

Still no response. "Unless you wanna take over," you added.

"O-Okay. Just search everything. I don't want any unexpected visitors crawling on me while I'm sleeping." you grinned at him, grateful to contribute any help to Jamil. "Of course! Just sit tight; I'll be quick!"

You skimmed through his books, parts of his desk, and under the cushions on the floor. You could feel Jamil's eyes observing you inspect every inch of his room, causing your cheeks to blush.

"N-Nothing yet. I'm almost done." Jamil nodded, glimpsing under the pillows on his bed, allowing you a moment to breathe. You paused as you watched him scour his bed, from the bed sheet to the blankets on the bed. A giggle escaped your lips. Jamil ceased his inspection, pivoting to you.

"Care to tell me what's so amusing?" Jamil asked, slightly embarrassed and irked. "It's nothing, I promise! Haha!" you leaned against his wardrobe, failing to stop the laughter while his cheeks reddened.

"It's funny how I can help you, even if it means getting rid of bugs." You chuckled, wiping a tear as you steadied yourself against the wardrobe. Even if this minor issue was something to help Jamil, it was promising. 

Seeing and learning more about Jamil was a step in the right direction. You only wished that Jamil could rely on you more and never have to endure what he went through. 

Jamil didn't speak, so you mindlessly continued speaking.

"I know nothing about your past and what you've endured, but I'm glad I can see and learn more about you. You have many obligations compared to me, so I want to help in any way imaginable."

You couldn't fathom hiding who you were and having to bite your tongue as Jamil had done. Jamil truly deserved the whole world. He was perceived as the villain, yet he never was. He was just lost.

Lost and alone. 

You glimpsed away briefly, rubbing your hand over the chipped wood from the wardrobe. "So, if you ever need anything, whether minuscule or important, I'll be there for you, Jamil. I'm always available to lend a helping hand."

"Cause you're incredible, Jamil Viper." You said breathlessly.

After a brief silence, you noticed Jamil looking at you as if almost speechless, not saying a word. You expressed yet cringed as your voice became weaker than you had desired. You opened his wardrobe to continue inspecting for critters. "S-Sorry if it sounds weird. It's just nice seeing a different side of you, Jamil."

You hid your rosy complexion behind the wardrobe door, unable to see Jamil. You couldn't help the color on your cheeks, and you couldn't imagine what he thought of your statements.

"Is that so?" Said Jamil cooly as he slid off the bed. You jumped, shaking off your blush as you glimpsed inside. Maybe now would be a good time to leave his room. Anything so he wouldn't notice how effortlessly he flustered you.

You shut the doors, thinking of any excuse you could muster. "I-I should go call and see how Grim is doing! Let me just—!" You froze as Jamil's hand rested on the wardrobe, only inches from touching you.

Your throat quickly went dry, registering Jamil's proximity to your body. His chest barely touched your back, yet it was difficult to think with this sudden closeness.

"Why are you so keen on helping me, (y/n)?" He murmured closely to your ear, his breath on your neck. His tone teetered on amusement yet curiosity, something Jamil rarely displayed to anyone. 

"B-Because I want to help you, Jamil."

"That's it? Nothing more?" You couldn't lie to him, not when Jamil had been honest about his feelings, revealing how broken he had been for several years.

You watched his hand gradually drift closer to your hand, holding your breath while your hands grew damp. His fingers were only inches from touching you, but the way he slid them closer rattled you. It was painfully slow as if he was testing how you'd react.

Before you could process a reply, he continued. "I don't believe you. You're lying." Shit. You were cornered. Jamil knew how you felt, but did he reciprocate your sentiments?

You weren't sure if you could bear the humiliation of rejection, and Jamil wasn't afraid to speak up about his beliefs.

Jamil's fingers grazed the hair from your shoulder, a shudder covering your body, neck, and red-tinted ears. "So why can't you turn around and look at me, (y/n)? I don't like liars."

Now you were screwed. What would Jamil say about your reddened complexion? There was no way to avoid his request. You shut your eyes tightly, mustering your courage and calming your heart rate. 

You gradually turned to Jamil, losing your breath at the closeness. Jamil's smirk was readily the picture of smugness. "Now, (y/n), let me ask you again." He backed you into the wardrobe suddenly, his muscled arms caging you. "Is it truly nothing more?"

Your breath caught in your throat, feeling his lips resting only inches from you. You never imagined Jamil to be so forward with you.

"No. It's not," you acknowledged, reaching up and gripping Jamil's sweatshirt with a shaky grip. "You're such an enchanting person, Jamil. I've never met someone like you, who's breathtaking yet mysterious. You've endured so much, yet your knowledge and how you handle yourself is that of a man."

Jamil faltered at your compliment, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks. "That's not who I-!"

"Stop."

You cut him off, your hand gently brushing his hair away as you cupped his rosy cheek. "If only you could see how I see you, Jamil," you spoke instinctively, yet you quickly realized what you said and glanced away, embarrassed.

If Jamil didn't realize how you felt before, this was a definitive response to his question. Jamil didn't respond, yet it seemed he was still recovering from your sudden compliment. You smiled warmly, using your other hand to pull down his hood.

"You shouldn't have to hide, Jamil." The stillness was overwhelming, but Jamil's reaction reassured you. He didn't pull away or put his hood back on but just stared at you. 

"Jamil?" He snapped out of his daze, delicately brushing your hair behind your ear while his other hand gently rested on the small of your back.

“(y/n). I've never had someone say such things to me. But, at least you've answered something for me." Jamil's hand on your lower back pulled you closer, both holding your breath as you gradually inched closer.

Closer. Chills ran over your skin, yet you couldn't pull away from how close you were to Jamil's lips.

His warm breath slowly inched closer to your lips. His cologne or whatever he used invaded your senses. How many times had you fantasized about Jamil kissing every inch of you? How you would shower him with praise and love was something Jamil had never received.

Closer. Closer.

"Jamil! Jamil!" No sooner did you hear Kalim calling for Jamil; Kalim slammed open the door, an innocent smile before he froze, witnessing the both of you so close together.

"Uh…did I come at a bad time?" Both you and Jamil bounced back, yet you hit your head against his wardrobe, cupping your darkened cheeks and unable to speak for a moment.

"Kalim, what the hell do you need at this moment?" Jamil snapped at Kalim, yet his usual snappy tone faltered with his reddish cheeks.

"Ah, well, it has something to do with one of our classes," Kalim replied sheepishly, scratching his cheek at the timing of his entrance.

"Um, I'm gonna step out a moment to call Grim. I'll see you both in a bit!" You sputtered before running out of Jamil's room.

"Wait, (y/n)!" Kalim shouted as he saw you run out of sight, but you hadn't heard him. 

"Um... I interrupted something pretty important, huh?" Kalim chuckled awkwardly again, yet Jamil was doing everything not to have an aneurysm.

"I swear I'm locking my door from now on."

"Oh? Is it so you and (y/n) can spend some-!"

"Another word from you, and I'll send you across the desert. NOT. ANOTHER. WORD."

Jamil lashed and slammed a fist on the wardrobe before crumpling to his knees and raising a fist to hide his (prominent) reddened face.

~~~~~

You sprinted back towards the lounge, collapsing near your bag while clutching a cushion to your face.

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD. I CAN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS SAYING! I WAS JUST ON AUTOPILOT!

How could you look at Jamil now?! Not without recalling how close you were to kissing and what you said to him. Dammit, it was about to get more awkward than before.

Your elbow grazed against some papers, presumably from Kalim. He was working on some of his assignments, with some red marks covering most of his tests and assignments.

But what caught your eye were lyrics and musical notes. It exhibited how old the song had been; the paper darkened and frayed after many years. It must've been passed down to Kalim's family for generations.

The lyrics were enchanting and beautiful, equivalent to a love song between two people.

"Desert Moon?" You held it delicately, standing and trekking to rest your arms against the balcony. It was a short song, but the lyrics demonstrated how much they cared about one another. The beautiful moon was bright in the sky, yet it was blue and mesmerizing tonight.

Seemingly curious if you could sing the song, you glanced around, hoping no one would hear you singing. With a slow deep breath, you began.

When the shadows unfold

When the sun hides its gold

When the wind and the cold come calling 

When the path isn't clear

And the stars disappear 

As endless midnight's falling

You stopped, skimming through the lyrics again. Was this song sung between the princess and prince you had heard from Kalim and Jamil? It sounded sad initially, as if the princess was almost waiting for someone. Or she was unsure of her feelings towards the prince.

At the edge of the sky

There's a moon hangin high

When you're lost, it'll try to remind you.

You froze, knowing fully whose voice that was—someone who stunned you during the VDC performance with how beautiful their voice was.

"Jamil." You spun behind you, seeing Jamil only a few feet from you. He stopped, waiting for you to continue the lyrics. Would Jamil laugh at your horrible singing? No, not the way he was looking at you. His eyes wouldn't separate from yours.

On a dark desert night

You can look to the light

'Cause it's shining there to find you

You finished the last note, and he nodded for you to continue. You weren't sure if you could be as good as Jamil, but you resumed, unable to pull away from his gaze. He took a step forward, and you both sang the lyrics.

Desert moon light the way

'Till the dark turns to day

You weren't sure if Jamil could hear your beating heart as it thrashed against your chest, yet you both continued while Jamil mindlessly strode gradually toward you.

Like a lamp in the lonely night

Bright and blue

Jamil was only a few feet, yet the lyrics didn't feel out of place now. It was as if the lyrics spoke for both of you. Of the unspoken words that needed to be said. The lyrics hypnotically put you both under a spell.

Desert moon, wild and free

Will it burn just for me?

Jamil stepped up to you, yet you couldn't push away from the balcony. The beautiful moon from above showered Jamil in dazzling light. It felt as if the two of you were alone in this world. In a world full of darkness yet had its moments of light.

Shine down

You smiled at him, and he returned the smile. A warm and endearing smile that your stomach flipped-flopped at the beautiful sight.

Shine down

Finally, Jamil enveloped his arms around your waist while you cupped his warm cheek.

'Till I find my way to you

Both of you finished the final note before neither could you take it any longer. You both pulled each other in, and your lips connected warmly. It was such an intoxicating feeling, having someone you care about kissing you breathlessly.

Jamil's grip on your waist tightened, the way it felt as if you needed more of each other's presence. Touching and relishing the warmth and desire you both felt for each other for so long.

Jamil pulled away, resting his forehead against yours while his eyes were closed. Yet the smile on his face was a relief. Adoration. Genuine love.

"I love you, (y/n)." You shuddered, his eyes opening to greet yours. Never had you seen Jamil look so content and happy. This was entirely different, even when you saw him smile after his overblot. 

"I know you were unexpectedly thrown into this world, and it didn't know what to expect. But I'm glad I was able to fall in love with someone like you. I mean it, (y/n). I'll help you with anything you need. Just say the word, and I'll come to you.”

You were overwhelmed with how long you’d been dreaming of this moment. To hear something so heartfelt from Jamil that was only meant for you. "I love you too, Jamil." You whispered, closing your eyes and feeling a lone tear sliding down your cheek. 

Relief coursed through you both, embracing one another and hearing both of your heartbeats thrashing wildly. But it was worth it. 

Maybe the prince and princess gave you both the push you needed, all with lyrics from a beautiful song. 

"Ahahaha! Congratulations!" Kalim leaped out from behind the doors, his cheeks rosy, beaming warmly at the sight of you and Jamil in each other's arms.

You smiled and chuckled while Jamil sighed, yet didn't say anymore as his hand settled against the small of your back. Jamil smiled at Kalim, willing to ignore his unfortunate timing once again.

But it didn't matter. You promised Jamil that you'd do anything to help him, and you meant it—no more concealing how he felt. Jamil Viper truly deserved everything in the world. 

You would offer him the stars, the moon, anything he desired. Cause Jamil Viper was something worth treasuring and showering him with adoration.

And you had no problem showing that to someone as remarkable as Jamil Viper.

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

FINALLY GOT AROUND TO FINISHING THIS!!

This was inspired by the song “Desert Moon” from the new Aladdin movie. I just loved the lyrics and really wished they used it in the movie.

I’ve had a horrible case of writers block, and it was definitely a bit challenging to write Jamil, but he’s just AHHHHHHHHH

I proofread but I know it’s not super amazing.

May write next about our dear Octavinelle house warden, cause DAMN he’s also just FUCKING ADORABLE.

…Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you!❤️

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #jamil x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #fanfic #twst fanfic

[qwanderer]

Variable (Vegetable)

Domestic Fluff, Cooking, Post-s5

This story is influenced in some ways by Redemption but contains no spoilers.

–

“I am gonna get you two to eat salad,” Eliot said, “eat salad and like it, if it kills me.”

“No!” Parker stood up and marched over to him, waving a finger in his face. “You are not allowed to die! I’ve been very clear about this.”

“Babe,” Hardison said, “I’m pretty sure that was hyperbole.” He raised his eyebrows at Eliot, who just stood there in front of the stove with his arms crossed. “It’d better be!” Hardison told him.

“I’m gonna make it work,” Eliot said, returning to stirring the contents of the pan in front of him. “Someday.”

“But you make all kinds of vegetables that we do like!” Parker told him. “It doesn’t have to be…” She wrinkled her nose. “Leaves, not cooked or anything, just sitting there. We’re allowed to have things we just don’t like.”

Eliot sighed. “You are allowed,” he told her. “I just… I can’t help thinking I could make it work.”

Hardison hummed thoughtfully. “Your food is all kinds of tasty,” he told Eliot. “Most of the time. Just, like, maybe don’t hold your breath about this.”

Rolling his eyes, Eliot said, “Okay, fine, I promise I won’t die of trying to reinvent the salad.”

“Good,” said Parker, and leaned her chin on Eliot’s shoulder to peer at what was apparently cream sauce he was making. “You know I’ll try anything you make,” she said, “even if I don’t end up liking it, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I do.” He turned to peck her on the cheek. “But, like, the harder something is to break into, the more fun the two of you have trying, right?” he asked. “It’s not always about what you get once you’re in.”

“That’s true,” Parker said.

“Yeah,” Hardison agreed. “Sometimes hacking is just about the puzzle. It’s about knowin’ you can.”

“Yeah,” Eliot agreed. “So. This is a puzzle.”

“Oh,” said Parker, her eyes widening in understanding. “You’re trying to steal our souls. With salad. Because that’s the hardest way you can think of to do it.”

Hardison snorted and hid his face behind his hand. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Eliot agreed mildly. 

“As long as you make dessert,” she told him, “I will forgive you anything you make me eat first.”

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. 

–

Eliot was always growing something new in the backyard, but this year he had a lot of new things happening. He spent every spare minute out there, weeding or watering or whatever. 

And it was extra pretty. There were always flowers somewhere, because as Eliot had explained, flowers made seeds for the next year, and also a lot of vegetables were actually fruit, and to get fruit, first you needed flowers. But this year, there seemed to be more of them. 

The thing that was most interesting was how, when he went out to work on the garden, he had that attitude that meant he was Up To Something. 

That wasn't bad, or even all that unusual, because when were any of them not up to something? But it did make the other two extremely curious. 

So they spent some time out on the back porch, trying to see what he was up to. But as far as they could tell, he was just… gardening. Like usual. 

But it was nice, actually, being out in the fresh air, all three of them, just doing their own things quietly together, Eliot weeding, Hardison on his laptop, Parker checking her rigs, all surrounded by the bright beauty that was Eliot's garden. 

And maybe that was the point. 

–

The bowls Eliot set in front of them were a riot of color. Yellow, orange, deep purple, purple-red, and only a touch, here and there, of green. 

“Ooh! You got us flowers!” Parker exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Eliot agreed, with a mischievous smile.

Hardison frowned down at his. “Okay, but why are they, like, in a bowl? In front of us? Instead of, like, in a vase in the middle of the table where flowers belong?”

“Because they’re not a bouquet,” Eliot told him. “They’re a salad.”

“I’m fine,” Eliot said, sitting down with his own bowl. “I am not dying. Okay?” He looked at the two of them. “Trust me.”

Hardison gaped, and made noises, and pointed at his bowl, and eventually managed to say, “That is not a salad!” He peered at Eliot. “That is a bowl of goddamn flowers! How hard did you hit your head on that last job?”

Parker picked up her fork and poked at the beheaded flowers in her dish. “Ooh, some of these are even cooked!” she said. “I’m going to try them first.”

“Those ones are squash flowers,” Eliot explained. “Cooked ‘em with the dressing and used that as the base, so it wouldn’t ruin the look of the flowers on top.”

“Are you for real with this?” Hardison asked. “Like, for real, for real?”

“Yeah,” Eliot said, glaring at him. “Just try it, okay? I grew these special for this.”

Parker bit into the squash flower. It was sweet, cooked with honey and butter and a little tang like apple juice and a bit of spice and something a little bit like vanilla, but not quite. 

“It looks like flowers and it tastes kind of like pumpkin pie and it’s a salad,” she said in consternation.

“Try it with some of the fresh ones,” Eliot urged her. 

With determination, Parker speared some of the other flowers on her fork with the rest of the squash flower, and she put them in her mouth. And she chewed on them.

“Oh, that’s good,” she said in surprise. 

Hardison gave a put-upon sigh. “If this is some kind of trick,” he said, “I am not gonna be happy.” He stuffed some flowers into his mouth, too. 

As he chewed, his eyes widened, and he slowed down, actually savoring, instead of just trying to get the food down. He hummed in approval, nodding. 

“What are these ones?” Parker asked, pointing at the orange, poofy, kind of spicy flowers. 

“Marigolds,” Eliot answered. “They do double duty because they help control bugs, and a lot of animals that like to eat stuff from my garden don’t like the smell of ‘em.”

“Why not?” Parker asked, sniffing one. “They’re really good, actually.” She tried eating it by itself. Not as good as with the sweet cooked squash flowers, but not actually bad. 

Eliot shrugged. “Not sure,” he said. “It just works.”

“This is witchcraft,” Hardison said, pointing at Eliot. “Flowers ain’t supposed to be tasty. They’re just flowers. But then you do this.” He narrowed his eyes at Eliot. “It’s dark magic, is what it is.”

“It ain’t magic,” Eliot said, shaking his head. “Just, some vegetables are fruits, some are flowers. It’s easier to get edible flowers fresh from the garden, so you don’t see a lot of ‘em in stores.”

“I can’t believe I just ate a goddamn marigold,” Hardison said, but he took another bite all the same. “What’s this one?” he asked, pointing to a big, flat, orange-yellow flower. 

“That’s nasturtium,” Eliot told him. “And then there’s pansies and red clover.” He pointed those out in his own bowl. 

“Huh,” said Hardison, nibbling on one of the clover flowers. “Okay, okay, I get it. Bunnies have a point about these, huh?”

Eliot visibly held back laughter. 

“You solved your puzzle,” Parker told him. 

Eliot grinned. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

“I did not think it was possible,” Hardison said. “But I also think this is cheating.”

“Oh yeah?” Eliot asked, still smiling. “What rule did I break?”

“I dunno!” Hardison said. “I don’t know the rules of cooking!”

“Well I do,” Eliot said, standing up to go and loom over Hardison, joke-threatening. “So I’m allowed to break ‘em.”

“Is that so?” Hardison said, looking up at him. 

“Mm-hmm,” said Eliot, leaning down towards him. 

They held each other's gaze for a moment, challenge quickly turning to pure fondness, and then Hardison reached up to pull Eliot down for a kiss. 

“You're magic,” Hardison murmured, “don't you dare deny it.”

Eliot sighed, but he was smiling. 

“Did you still make dessert?” Parker asked him.

“'Course I did,” he answered, turning his soft smile on Parker. “First salad, then lasagna, then dessert.”

“Ooh, lasagna too,” she said. “You're the best.”

“Now go eat,” Hardison told him with a gentle shove back in the direction of his own seat. “Magician, feed thyself, or whatever.”

So Eliot went, laughing. 

Eliot was softest and happiest when he got to cook, when he got to feed people, but he still had that drive in him, the way they all did, to be tricky and solve puzzles and face challenges. 

To win something.

Parker didn't think she'd ever seen him smile this much. Not when he wasn't on the grift, at least. This was home, with them. This was real. 

So she ate her yummy salad, full of flowers, and then she asked, “What's the next puzzle?”

Eliot shrugged. “Dunno. Guess I'll think of something.” He winked at her. 

Yeah, he should definitely be allowed to steal their souls as many different ways as he wanted.

#leverage #leverage ot3 #levot3 #fluff #fic #crossposted from ao3 #written for the #leverage gift exchange

[ac1dl4v3]

speed up.

who . . manjiro sano x fem! reader

length . . 4.4k words!

warnings . . mature/smut!, poc fem! reader, nsfw, time skip mikey, he's a dom here, car sex, finger fucking, teasing, smoking, cock warming, finger sucking, wanna say a bit of a spit kink, and some second hand embarrassment lmao

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ★

𝓨ou sat on the nearby bench, eating fruit snacks and scrolling through smut on Tumblr. Mikey was up at the curb, leaning on his Toyota Supra while talking to Draken. Nearby, Emma was sitting in Draken's Chevrolet Camero, half asleep from how long her boyfriend was taking to drive her home. You were empathizing.

You analyzed the gleaming, black vehicle from where you sat-- beginning to wonder why Mikey didn't take it out of the garage more often. It was one of the ones you picked, and it was fucking sexy too. He'd probably use his cars more if he weren't so addicted to his bikes.

From a distance, you saw the dark haired male wave you over to him as Draken walked over to his car parked on the other side of the street. You got up with your box (yes, a whole box) of fruit snacks to talk to Mikey at the curb where he waited for you.

"You ready to go?" You asked, secretly excited to go home and recreate a scenario you just read about. It had a lot to do with gloves, honey, ice, and the kitchen counter.

"Yeah, get in." He said, taking a pack of fruit snacks from your box and earning himself a pluck on the hand. He chuckled at your protectiveness over food and got in the car, leaning over to open your door for you from the inside.

Mikey watched from the corner of his eyes as you buckled your seatbelt, your thighs pressed close together in your loose mini skirt. Before you could notice him gawking, he turned his attention to shifting the gears and turning on his blinkers. Now he was just quietly-- menacingly waiting for Draken to do the same from the other side of the street.

"Can we stop at the store before we go home?" You asked. You wanted to get some tools for the activities you wanted to perform tonight.

"What made you think we were going home?" Mikey asked, waiting for your response as he kept his eye on Draken's back lights.

You raised an eyebrow at him, confused by what he meant. "You said we were leaving." You stated, starting to get a bad feeling.

"And when did I say we were going home?" He retorted, a smirk pulling on his lips from your annoyed expression. "What? We're gonna have some fun. Don't get all pouty."

"I have stuff to do at home, so whatever you're planning just hurry up." You whined, stretching out your legs to get comfortable in the seat. The only thing you had planned for tonight was getting fucked on the counter, but that was more than enough reason to wanna go home. But even so, he was playing games so all you could do was be patient.

"It'll be fast, just calm down." He cooed, placing his warm, ring covered hand on your thigh. Rubbing it up and down to keep you quiet. You immediately felt the familiar tingling sensation overlap your clit, exciting you. You already had those things on your mind; he didn't know what he was adding fuel to.

"But-," You were interrupted by the loud revving of the cars engine as Mikey leaned back, randomly lighting a blunt he rolled earlier. Your eyes widened as you looked over at Draken's car in realization, but it was too late.

The two cars pulled off the curbs of either side of the road, suddenly speeding next to each other. Your body was tossed back against the seat abruptly by the sudden acceleration. You looked over at Mikey, pissed. There was no way this maniac was racing Draken at 12:00 at night when you just said you were ready to go home.

He was still smoking his blunt, taking a pull with it between his fingers and placing the palm of his hand back on the wheel to keep control. His other hand was still resting on your thigh, slightly gripping it because of his intense concentration.

"Mikey." You addressed him, crossing your arms. "I just told y-,"

He sucked his teeth. "Why you think you tellin' me shit?" Mikey was tired of you thinking you were calling the shots here. "You think I won't fuck the shit outta you while I beat Draken's ass?"

You were quiet. What could you say to that? You knew he would, he's just like that sometimes. Dangerous. Impulsive. Or maybe just horny.

"What happened, huh? Thought you were telling me something?" Mikey teased. He peeked at you as he decided to put out his blunt for a little later, mostly because he didn't wanna make you nervous.

You mumbled curses under your breath, not wanting to speak to him directly. You didn't want any problems, this wasn't the right situation to be talking back. In fact, with this man there was never really a situation where you should be talking back.

"Go on, baby." Mikey pressed on, moving his heavy hand up your thigh. You inhaled through your nose as he ran his thin fingers against the fabric of your panties. "Tell me where we goin'."

Before you could try to stop him he slid his hand under your sweater, keeping his other palm steady on the wheel. Draken was just barely behind him. You only wondered if anything was happening to poor Emma like what was happening to you.

A soft, breathy moan escaped you as he ran his hand up your stomach, stopping at your nipples. They were soft and puffed out when he first grazed them, but in a matter of seconds he felt them tighten and harden from his touch.

"Were you waiting for this or something?" He teased, moving to the other breast easily without the harassment of your bra. You just didn't see a need for it when you got dressed this morning.

"Mikey, we shouldn't do this right now." You finally spoke, deciding this wasn't the right time. "What if-,"

"Nothing's gonna happen. I got you." He assured, looking in the rear view at Draken. "Plus, I'm finna win."

You moved his hand off of your chest, protesting. "Fine, then do whatever if you win. But not right now." You didn't want the two of you getting in an accident. It wasn't a casual ride like usual; he was well past the speed limit-- damn near hitting 90. Too risky. You weren't gonna end up losing your life in the middle of an orgasm and with hella smut still in your phone.

He sucked his teeth with no choice but to give in. "Fine." He agreed, trying to ignore the slight aggravation between his thighs. "Then ima win."

Your eyes widened as he some how pushed on the gas harder, leaving Draken and Emma down the road. The both of you rode in the car for a few more minutes before Mikey passed the finishing point the two men had already decided on. He laughed proudly and slowed down before he pulled over, getting ready to call Draken and gloat. You let out a breath of relief, your muscles finally relaxing with your heart rate.

You watched as Mikey sat in silence with the phone pressed against his ear. Eventually, he hung up in disappointment that he couldn't laugh in his friends face. Draken didn't answer. Instead he sent a text that could be translated to "ggs, talk tmro". There were some unnecessary letters and semicolons. Mikey figured Emma distracted him while he was racing, she was always distracting him. Mikey thought it was annoying of her, but you thought it was cute. Especially since Draken always gave her his attention when she wanted it.

But right now Mikey wasn't really worried about Draken and Emma. He'd just have to brag tomorrow. He was more focused on something else he needed to deal with.

"Unbuckle your seat belt." He ordered, slipping his phone in his pocket. You did as he asked while his eyes shot daggers at you for taking your sweet time.

"Come." He patted his thigh, unbuckling his seat belt as well as his baggy, black cargo pants. Though his dick still confined under his briefs. You tried to hide your smirk as you followed his orders, crawling across the console to sit on his lap.

Manjiro landed a harsh slap to your ass, causing you to suck in your breath as butterflies wrapped around your stomach. His hands found their way to your love handles as he leaned into the crook of your neck and bit down on your shoulder. Your skirt was hiking up, resting along your waist to reveal your pink, polkadot panties.

He looked down to investigate the sudden dampness, quickly admiring what he'd done to you in such a short amount of time. He'd barely touched you at all. For such a bratty bitch you were extremely sensitive, and he couldn't get enough of the feeling of empowerment. Dominance.

"Oh, hey. Didn't I buy these?" He asked, firmly grabbing the back of your neck so you could look down at yourself. "And what's this, huh? Why're they wet?"

He slid his hand in your panties to get a feel of your warm, slickness. You moaned from the contact, feeling his slender digits become coated with your arousal. He ran them from your clit to the back of your entrance, creating erotic sounds from your soppy cunt.

"Damn," He moved closer, mumbling against your ear. "I did this?"

Suddenly, you felt him grip you buy your hips and move you up. You held onto his shoulders for support and braced your knees against the seat. Then, just in time, you looked down at his right hand as he pushed you down on his fingers. His left hand still keeping a tight grip to guide your waist ever so slowly, your knees doing their best to support your crumbling body. You were melting at his touch. For such a violent and dangerous man to be so gentle with you made your heart skip a beat.

He was moving you down as slow as he could and rubbing against your clit in circles. At some point his circles got more vigorous and fast, but his overall pace didn't change. You couldn't take it. You whined in desperation as you rolled your neck to the side and pushed yourself down faster. Your hands tightening their grip on his hard shoulders as you arched your back to quicken your pace. You were too aroused. You needed something bigger, this wasn't nearly enough to satisfy you. And Mikey felt the same; the way you rode them made his stomach turn. Bucking your hips, gripping his shoulders. It was crazy for him to be jealous of his own fingers, but you were only supposed to act like that wrapped around his dick.

"Enough." He pulled you off of his soaked digits quickly, a wet popping sound leaving your hole and sending shivers up your back. He moved the two fingers to your lips and before you realized it, he was prying your mouth open and shoving them inside. At this point he was torturing himself just to see you get excited. He could've just fucked you from the start, but he loved breaking you apart slowly. Watching you turn into a mess, letting go of all your dignity as you begged him to let you cum.

You sucked on them, not having much of a choice, and he pushed them deeper down your throat causing your eyes to roll back as you gagged. The pads of his fingers reaching the back of your soft tongue.

"Shut up." He ordered. You ignored him, moaning around his fingers, moving your tongue between the two and getting the last taste of yourself before it disappeared down your throat. He pulled them out, going for your sweater next.

He took it off without a word before pulling his dark hair into a ponytail, not bothering to pull back the fly aways in the front.

"..Mikey." You mumbled. He raised an eyebrow and looked up at you as he moved his mouth around your right tit. Moving his tongue around in satisfaction, feeling your nipples with his teeth. You held back your moans, trying to remember what you were going to say. "Uh.. Let me help you."

Manjiro pulled his mouth off your chest, letting go of your nipple with his teeth and watching your skin ripple back in place. 'that's hot' He wasn't even listening to you. He was too focused on your body. The way your chest heaved when he did something you liked. The way you'd start breathing heavy to hold back your moans. He loved it all. It took years to get you under his control like this and only he could do it. You'd been his for a minute, yet he still couldn't get enough of this feeling.

Meanwhile, you just wanted to do the same for him. He was so stubborn sometimes. You knew he needed attention too, but all he cared about was your needs.

You gently grabbed Mikey's face with both of your hands and brought your lips close to his. Barely letting them brush against eachother before they clashed. His flat tongue moving back in your mouth as he sucked on your upper lip. You could barely keep up with the pace he was moving at. Trying your best to keep your movements in sink, you moved your hands down his dragon tattooed neck to his chest. It was covered with a black wife-beater which you found quite annoying. Therefor..

Your lips popped off of his suddenly. "Here." You pulled at the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up to reveal his abs. "Get rid of it."

Manjiro pulled it off and tossed it in the back before adjusting his seat. You held onto him, chests pressed against each other as you didn't expect him to move the seat back so suddenly. It just dropped. You didn't like that shit. He chuckled at your surprised reaction and moved his seat up just a little for back support.

"Y'know, I'm glad you picked out this car." Mikey said, moving his pants and boxers farther down while you were pressed up against his chest. You couldn't see what he was doing.

"Why's that?" You asked, curiously. There wasn't much special about it.

He chuckled, running his hand along your defined curves in satisfaction, sending chills up your clit and hardening your nipples. "Cus' it's so lame I don't mind getting your cum stained on the seats."

Now you were offended. "What? It's not lame." You spent HOURS looking at boring cars to find one you liked. You even asked some of his friends what they thought of it for a second opinion. "You just lack good taste. Those bikes are-,"

You were cut off by him sucking his teeth. Suddenly, Mikey pulled you back by your hair to sit you up straight and you were met with an unexpected presence. While you were lying down on his chest, the man had somehow aligned himself perfectly with your entrance. How did you not feel the warmth of his tip so close to you?

The fact that you were surprised made you moan out immediately. Not being able to stop yourself, you sunk down on him quickly. Without a second to waste Mikey guided your hips up and down, drooling at the sight of your tits clapping with every thrust. His voice was doing it's best to maintain some type of composure as he groaned. You must've been designed just for him the way your hips moved, the way the sweat on your chest glistened, the matching dragon tattoo you got just for him-- stretching from your waist to your upper thigh.

"Fuck, y/n." He cursed, bucking his hips for more friction. And your reaction wasn't helping him stay calm either. You were a mess. Moaning like a bitch in heat, scratching at his chest, arching your back. You were doing your best to fuck him back but you couldn't focus on anything but the feeling of his tip hitting something deep inside you.

Mikey smacked your ass and gripped it in his hand. He began moving you up and down slower, trying his best to savor the feeling. It was so easy for him to loose himself in the ecstasy of fucking you that he'd forget his motives. He was trying to prove something here.

You whined at his sudden slow pace and moved your middle finger between your thighs.

'needy' Mikey quickly gripped your wrist and moved it away from your clit, using his other hand to grip your neck. You jumped on accident, earning a groan from Mikey who was still suffocating around your slick walls. He pulled you closer by your neck with a firm grip. It wasn't enough to choke you but you wouldn't dare disobey him and pull away. He felt you gulp underneath his fingers and chuckled.

"Y'know, you hurt my feelings, y/n." He said lowly, a smirk lacing his wet lips. "Didn't think I'd win that race, did you? You didn't even cheer me on."

He pulled you up by your throat, his dick slipping half way out of you before he slammed you back down. Your eyes rolled back as he did the same action again, bringing your full body up by your neck before slamming you back with a loud clap against his thighs.

"F-fuck, Mikey. I-," You were cut off by him tightening his grip around your neck in annoyance.

"That's not my name." He corrected, unwrapping his other hand from your wrist and moving it to slap your right ass cheek. You held your lewd noises in your throat, not wanting to get into more trouble, but he felt the vibrations on his hand so there was no use. He pulled you up faster this time and his thumb was beginning to hurt your jaw. The pain oddly turned you on and you felt goosebumps run up your stomach, tears threatening to prick the corner of your eyes. Your mouth fell open with your tongue hanging out, drool running down your chin in satisfaction. You literally resembled a hungry dog the way he fucked you stupid.

"What's my name?" He was ordering you to answer him, slapping your ass again with impatience. His chest was heaving under you, his dark hair sticking to the sweat building up on his forehead. "Speak." He could barely speak his damn self the way you felt around him. He was literally slamming you up and down by your neck, you weren't doing anything back. Nevertheless, with your influence he was slowly falling apart.

"Mmm.. Uh..," You didn't know what he wanted to hear. He had too many names he liked, so you just picked one. "Daddy?" You heaved, trying your best to respond through your nasty thoughts.

He furrowed his eyebrows, landing another slap against your now sensitive ass cheek. "Wrong."

You tried again, doing your best to think about his names rather than the feeling of your sensitive nipples grazing his chest. "..Captain?" You guessed, confusion laced in your voice. Mikey was getting annoyed, you should know which one he liked the most. How many times had he fucked you now? You always got dumb like this when he was rough, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it. Stripping you of your sense.

Mikey moved his hand off of your neck, admiring the marks he'd left on you. 'so sensitive' He mentally claimed he wasn't even gripping that hard, but you'd probably object.

Before you could ask him what he was doing, Mikey moved both of your arms behind your back and pressed your chest against his. Your heavy breathing right next to his ear as your chin rested on his shoulder. He told you to arch your back and you did as he said, immediately pressing your stomach harder against his abs and arching.

"I'm gonna ask you one more fuckin' time y/n." He warned, his hands still holding your arms criss-crossed behind your back. You barely heard what he said, you were seeing white. Then, just as you were beginning to catch your breath you felt him buck his hips up abruptly, your walls readjusting as he pushed into you as far as he could. "What's." He paused between every thrust, pounding you harder each time. "My. Fucking. Name?"

Everything ached, your back was in the same position since he didn't give you permission to move on your own. You barely had to think this time, you just knew what he wanted to hear, and you felt stupid for not realizing sooner.

"Manjiro, f-fuck, Manjiro." You moaned, finally gaining some sense. "P-please. I wanna move. Lemme fuck you back, baby. I'll be good." You were begging. Of course you were. This position was solely pleasing him, you were just aching for more. You couldn't touch him, you couldn't fuck him. He was doing all the work, putting everything he had into you. Literally.

Mikey smiled at hearing his name coming from your wet lips. "Aw, look at you. You remembered my name, huh? Good job, baby." He praised, sarcastically. "You think that's worth rewarding? It only took you three tries, right?"

You gasped as your eyes rolled back, astounded at his ability to somehow fuck you harder. The seat was shaking, the car was rocking, your phones were on the floor. Thank god the windows were tinted at least because Mikey wouldn't have cared if anyone could see. He would've smiled and rolled it down, turning your face to the on lookers to say "hi".

"I think you should try a little harder." He proposed, a familiar coil beginning to form in his abdomen. Your drool had gone from his shoulder to his back and some of his bicep. It was hot. How much longer could you keep this up? Pushing him to the edge without even knowing it? "You want more, right? Beg for it then."

You licked your lips and kissed against his shoulder lovingly, even though he was balls deep ramming in and out of you. "P-please let me fuck you Manjro. I'll do anything." You begged, shamelessly. For him, you'd beg any day. "Please? I wanna h-help you cum."

Mikey grinned and loosened his grip on your arms, letting you sit up right and grip his shoulders eagerly. "Good girl." He praised, holding your waist tight as you arched your back again and moved your ass up and down to ride him. Your grip tightened around his dick from the more comfortable position, your clit rubbing against him the harder you slammed your ass down.

He moaned lowly in satisfaction, kneading at your love handles in concentration. He could feel it coming, he was close. You on the other hand had already came twice. The first time being when he forced you down by your neck and the second time being when your hands were held behind your back. You definitely had one more in you though and you were doing your best to reach it. Begging your overstimulated body not to give in to fatigue.

"Fuck." He looked down at his dick as it disappeared inside of you, slipping out with a thick white coat from your excitement. "You always cream on it so easy, baby." He praised, holding his other noises in his throat.

"Fuck, I'm close. Manji, I'm-- fuck." You could feel it, it was right there. Just a little more. You pushed into him again and again, using all of your strength to slide back up to the swollen, pink tip. Thrust after thrust, you were so caught up in your own motives you couldn't hear him begging you to stop. Telling you it was too much, too deep, too tight. These were words you've never heard him say before, you should've been in shock but you didn't even care. You were too focused on chasing that warm feeling of release, it was so close you were literally drooling over it.

"Y/n, I cant- I'm- It's-," Before he could finish his attempt of a sentence you interrupted him with such a sound that made his stomach flip in awe. He looked down to see a new stream of white overlapping his veiny, dick. Your walls tightened around him but you kept your pace, in fact it somehow got messier and faster as you cursed under your breath, digging your nails into his skin. Your eyes rolled back and your thighs burned as you felt his cum fill you up, adding onto what was already drenching his dick. You let out shaky breaths in exhaustion, both of your hips not being able to stop as you rode out your high like two wild animals.

It was amazing, but once you both calmed down you were too exhausted to get up. Mikey could've moved you off of him easily but he didn't want your warmth to leave his body yet. So you both sat there, calming your breathing and smiling at your synced timing of finishing. It was definitely something to celebrate, you two should sleep in tomorrow or something.

You were the first to speak. "For the record, I knew you'd win." Mikey looked at you, seeing through your obvious lies.

"Liar." He said, confidently.

"I'm not lying!" Yes you were. "It was apart of the plan. I was getting you motivated." No it wasn't and no you weren't. What were you still going for? Round 4? Shut up.

"Yeah, yeah, tell it to my dick." He said, slightly moving his hips in a circle, earning a low moan from you along with a slap on his arm.

"Chill out." You were too tired for his antics. He chuckled and helped you move off his lap, reaching for his blunt as he put his dick back in his pants and readjusted his seat to drive.

You put back on your sweater and panties, not finding the need to put your skirt back on immediately. Meanwhile, Mikey put the car in drive and placed his hand back back on it's usual spot, your thigh.

You went straight to your phone, checking on Emma to see if she was okay. You could only imagine what Draken might've done to her, she already seemed so tired. Then, just as you were getting to her contacts, Mikey spoke.

"Oh yeah." He said, stopping at a red light as he exhaled his smoke. "You still wanna go to the store?"

★ ac1dl4v3 productions. all rights reserved, do not plagiarize.

#tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers #anime x reader #smut #mikey smut #mikey x y/n #mikey x reader #mikey x you #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro #dom mikey #toman #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers smut #x reader #mikey x female reader #mikey x poc!fem reader #black fem reader #sub reader #sano manjiro x you #sano manjiro x y/n #sano manjiro x fem reader

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 4: Comfort

The Sun is the Center of Everything

See Authors Note (CW: Addiction, hard drug use)

Word count: 4.1k

“The label would like to fly you out to London.”

“Do they know we’re broken up?”

“This isn’t for an event. Sony believes that you’re the most effective kind of damage control when it comes to Damiano. They’re probably not wrong.”

“Is he okay?” Already, you’re opening Twitter.

“For now. I think he’s reached a turning point where the drugs are more scary than they are rewarding. If we can just get him into rehab…” In moments of wishful thinking, you’d done some research into rehab programs in Rome. In a moment of poor impulse control you’d stuck Damiano’s name on wait lists, which was no small undertaking. It meant using confidential healthcare information that you knew from the five year relationship. The fact that he hadn’t consented made it not entirely legal, but you justified it as a means to an end.

“The label is willing to refund Damiano for the program, whatever he chooses.” 

“I think the difference might be an Italian-speaking facility.”

“I agree. So you’ll come?”

“Yes,” you wince. This might go horribly and hurt like a motherfucker.  

“Good. Your flight leaves in four hours. The car service will drive you to the hotel. They have a gig tonight.”

“Oh lord.” The chauffeur actually took you straight to the venue, promising to deposit your belongings in your hotel room. You still had your friends and family badge. Wearing it again felt like putting on a costume. The cavernous backstage area was weirdly empty. You had to follow the arrows to the dressing rooms, of which there was an entire hallway. It was unusual that each band member had their own and that none of them were there to greet you. Handlers and security gathered around the entrance to what you assumed was Damiano’s room with crossed arms. You weren’t sure why, until you heard the yelling.

“Shit, he’s gonna shred his voice for tonight.”

“We’re past that point,” someone responds, not even looking at you.

“Just leave him to calm down,” another suggests.

“We need him for soundcheck,” someone else hisses. Many of these staff members were added since the breakup. Luckily, you found Ronnie.

“Hey, staring at him like a zoo animal isn’t helping, no?”

“Oh, hey. Yeah, um…” 

Damiano comes out of either a closet or bathroom, slams the door and bellows, “Why the fuck are you watching me?”

“We don’t know what he has on him or if he’s eaten today.” Damiano slides down with his back against the wall and curls in a ball behind the couch. He’s so defeated and powerless that it shatters your heart into splinters of glass.

“He’s totally dysregulated. Have you offered him food? Water?”

“He’s insisted that he won’t eat,” says another new voice. 

“Get him some pizza from the bougiest place you can find and if he doesn’t eat it, fine. What about his rider?”

“It contained alcohol so we had someone remove it.”

“You removed the whole rider, not just the alcoholic drinks?” You look at Ronnie in astonishment. “Fresh fruit is on his rider because he eats it before a gig. So he has something in his stomach, but it won’t make him sick running around on stage.”

“Right can, uh…can someone get some fresh fruit for Damiano?”

“No citrus, no pineapple,” you add. “Don’t need to douse his vocal chords in citric acid right before a gig. Also throat coat tea and cold compresses to help him calm down. Alkaline water, as well.” You look into the giant dressing room to see if he’s noticed your voice amongst all the others. Dami seems to be in his own little world, and not in a good way. You can’t do this with an audience.

“One more thing, could you just back up a little bit.” You herd the onlookers out of the doorway so you can achieve privacy. “Just a little more, mhm. Okay, great.” Before they realize what you’re doing, you close the doors of the dressing room in their surprised faces. Trying not to startle him, you place a hand on Dami’s back. It smells like he forgot to put on deodorant. Or maybe he was so stressed he sweated through it already.

When that doesn’t elicit a reaction, you rub his back and run your fingernails along his scalp. Dami shivers and looks up in confusion. That was your touch, but how the hell were you here? He’s obviously high, pupils completely blown out. Could phone camera’s catch that on stage? 

“I closed the doors, it’s just me and you here.” He’s still processing, confusion turning into surprise.

“What did you take? Blow and liquor?” He nods sheepishly and avoids your eyes. “What about pills?” Looking sincere, Damiano shakes his head. 

“They sent you here to talk to me?”

“I guess. I’m not here to chastise you, though. It seems like you needed some peace.” You stroke his head, then down his face. Dami leans into you organically. 

“Can we sit on the couch instead of the floor?” As he stands, there's a timid knock on the door. Someone slides a couple trays inside. Fruit and tea on one, ice water water and a stack of cloths on the other.

“Thank you,” you say curtly and lock the door. “Ohh-kay, do you want some tea for your voice?”

“No thank you,” Damiano clears his throat. You wrap the first cold rag on the back of his neck and use the second to softly wash his face, redipping to keep the cloth cold. As much as you’d like to ask questions, it was clear that soothing is what Damiano needed.

“I’m gonna go grab the other tray.” You start eating the fruit yourself, knowing that will encourage Dami, and he takes sips of tea. You exchange the rag on the back of his neck with a fresh one. This is the tipping point. He opens the water bottle, but doesn’t drink. Instead, Damiano reaches towards you, arms around your waist and head in your lap as his face crumples.

“I can’t control it!”

“I know,” you murmur, stroking his flushed complexion.

“I can’t control it and I don’t know what to do,” he cries. “I just want to go home.” How childlike we all are, when worn down to the bone.

“That’s why I’m here, to take you back to Rome after this gig.”

“No, I fucking hate Rome,” he bites.

“Rome is your home.”

“No, you were my home and now whenever I go to Rome I can’t come home.” Closing your eyes, you try to steady yourself, with a few deep breaths, then a few more. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“I fucked it all up and I’m afraid…it feels like I’m too far gone to turn back.”

“You are not too far gone! People spend years in hard drug addiction and they’re not too far gone. Please, don’t give up on yourself! I haven’t given up on you, not at all.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are right here, right now, acknowledging that this is out of your control.”

“I’m so afraid of getting better because there’s only one direction. If I don’t do it then I’ve failed. If I fail, then I might as well die.”

“No, that’s not true! If you’re alive, then there's always a chance to get better. And if you relapse, you can get clean again.” As you say the words, they sound more like a Hallmark card than a mature piece of advice. Neither of you were equipped to handle this particular moment.

“Then you won’t want me anymore!”

“Yes, I will! My love isn’t that fragile. I am not that fragile. I dealt with your self-destructive alcoholic ass for months before we ended it.”

“I’m never happy. Even the blow doesn’t make me happy, it just keeps me going. The other day I was so close to trying crack, just to see if I would fucking feel something again.

“But you didn’t?”

“No, but I almost –” You lean down and press a long kiss to Dami’s cheek.

“You’ve already started getting sober then. Plus you’ve admitted that you need to get better, that this is all out of your control. Three weeks ago you couldn’t say that. You’re doing good.”

“It feels like it was all for nothing. I burned every bridge to force Sony’s hand in a new contract, and now I’m even more miserable than before. I can’t even enjoy it because I can’t enjoy anything! I’ve driven so many people away and the ones left are other addicts, but they’re all fucking miserable too. I can see them pretending they’re not and its so fucking depressing that sometimes I don’t even want to –”

”Go on,” you whisper horsely, stiller than a granite statue.

“I don’t even want to be alive anymore,” he finally admits. “The entire world thinks I’m a druggie playboy and they’re not wrong. I’ve destroyed all my credibility, every good thing that people thought about me and I’ll never get it all back.”

“I disagree, I think an epic rebrand will be humanizing and make you more lovable than ever. People crave a comeback story.”

“But I never put 100% into getting sober before! I don’t know how to try, what if I’m not good at it?”

“I guarantee you won’t be, which is why you’re going to go to one of the best rehab facilities in Rome. You’re gonna get psychiatric care to treat the why of your addiction so you can stay clean.”

“Come on,” Damiano sits up, face riddled with skepticism. “It takes weeks or months to get into those places.” He starts eating just like you’d predicted.

“That's why you’ve been on half a dozen waitlists for a few months.” Damiano scoffs and catches a grape in his mouth.

“No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have.”

“How would I –” When he makes the connection, Dami’s mouth falls open in surprise. “You? But you’d need my SSN and fiscal code, right?” You nod with a self-satisfied grin. “Did you steal my identity, y/n?”

“For your own good.” He shakes his head in mock disapproval, but gives it away with a poorly suppressed smile. “I secured a spot for you before I got on the plane.” Secured was a nice way of saying frantically called and pathetically begged until I got a yes. His face falls.

“What? Do you really hate Rome that much? I’ll visit you.”

“No, no…I was just hoping for an excuse to stop by the apartment for a night.”

“When you get out, you’ll make me dinner and meet Cheeto, okay?”

“I’d love that. We’ll have– ‘scuse me.” He makes a face then bolts to the bathroom. Damiano turns on the faucet and fan, but you can guess the sound he’s concealing. Giving him a few minutes before checking in, you snoop through all his stuff. In the bottom of his box of cigarettes is a mostly empty dime bag of white powder that you almost missed. There’s also a pill case at the bottom of his purse which has coke in it, too. You feel silly after checking the room itself for drugs, as if Damiano wasn’t taping heroin to the underside of the sickly-green velvet couch.

“Babe?” Oops. “Dami, I’m coming in okay. In sickness and in health.” He’s sitting on the floor in the corner, panting, face scrunched in pain. You retrieve the water and cold compress tray.

“You really can’t keep anything down?” He shakes his head, obviously exhausted. “I’m so sorry. I know that cocaine can be hard on your stomach.”

“My own fault,” he winces.

“Yeah, but I still hate seeing you suffer.” You sit down on the floor beside Dami and pull his legs across your lap. Naturally, his head rests on your shoulder. You rub his back for a while, wiping it down with a cold cloth first.

“That's nice,” he whispers.

“Mhm.” You make a fresh one to wipe the sweat from his face. Then you take an ice cube and run it across the top of Dami’s chest to stimulate the vagus nerve. His breathing starts to slow and he leans into you more.

“I really miss this.”

“Affection?”

“Comfort. Everyone is…exhausted with me.” Not knowing what to say, you wrap one arm around Dami, set the other hand above his knee, then rock back and forth. For a few more minutes, you sit in silence on the hard tiles of the bathroom floor, just being together.

“Okay, I’m about to fall asleep, which means I need to get ready.” With a grunt, Damiano stands upright, then pulls you up after him. “Thank you, my lo – sweet – y/n.”

“Smooth.”

“Mm, thanks,” he cringes, walking up to the sink. He picks up a travel toothbrush and fresh tube of toothpaste that someone had already left there, prepared for this moment. You unlock the door and peek your head out to find Ronnie leaning his back against the opposite wall. 

“Hey is he, is he gonna do the show?”

“Yeah, can you get us tickets back to Rome as soon as possible? His place is being held at a facility that does 24/7 intake.”

“Like right after the gig?”

“Yeah, I don’t feel comfortable taking care of him overnight. He needs people who know what they’re doing.”

“So he agreed to rehab. How’d you get him in?” 

“Uh, name dropped,” you shrug, trying not to overcompensate. “So by the end of the show we’ll need a car ready with all our luggage, plus a change of clothes for Dam.

“Something inconspicuous. There’ll be a car waiting when you land, of course.”

“What if Twitter finds out we’re traveling?” Fans wanting a picture was inconvenient, but paparazzi wanting a story were truly the worst ever.

“Security will be there as soon as you deplane. We’ll keep this need to know.”

“‘Kay because he can’t handle any stress. I’ll need an ETA before we take off to give the facility and um…I don’t want him to get arrested for drug possession.”

“Damiano never puts drugs in his luggage, he always keeps them on his person.” You can already feel the nerves of walking by drug sniffing K-9s, hoping to god that there isn’t any significant residue in the bottom of his pant’s pocket.

“So we’re depending on the addict to be rational, thorough, and honest in the process of throwing all his drugs out? Really?”

“He’s good about not taking stuff through TSA. We wipe everything down. There's a system and we haven’t been caught yet.”

“And as great as that is –”

“Y/n,” Ronnie takes both your hands in his own. “Neither of you will end up in English prison tonight, I promise.” The lingering skepticism is written all over your face. “I promise,” he insists. 

Damiano acts the very same before going on stage. He smokes a cigarette and bounces in place to mitigate his own adrenaline.You always stand with him in this moment, rubbing his arms and reminding Dami to be gentle while stretching his neck. It’s comforting to see the band comradery persist now that they’ve come together. There's fist bumps, plus Thomas and Victoria threatening to ruin the other’s performance. Mia is joking along with them, cheeks flushed and her top inside out. Tom keeps a hand on the neck of his guitar so it doesn’t hit her.

At this moment, you’d kiss Dami good luck, having to get on your tiptoes because of his stage shoes. Today you slink into the shadows and see him take a breath from an oxygen canister. Their stage manager counts down from ten while shining a flashlight at the floor, so no one trips on a wire or seam in the stage. You can see him put the persona on, then drop the cigarette on the floor and stamp it out. If you were beside him, Dami would take a final puff and hand it over for you to finish. 

Ethan goes on stage first, then the rest of them. The audience releases a wall of sound and the unhinged screaming only intensifies as the lights go up. You can barely hear Ethan’s sticks click as he counts the band in. Mia cheers with the crowd, in case Thomas looks back. They never look back, but you both did it anyway. Just in case. She begins walking towards the audience exit. It was easiest to slip in front of the barricade unnoticed at the beginning because of the hysteria. You feel the tug in your chest to go with her, sing the lyrics to songs that Damiano had shown you first. 

“Y/n! Oh my god!!” It's jarring to be noticed in real time since you feel so stuck in memories.

“Mia, hey!” You try to match her enthusiasm. “Looks like you’re having fun.” You flick the tag of her blouse as she comes in for the hug.

“Yeah, this venue is huge!” She doesn’t pick up the reference, but enthusiastically agrees anyway. Her and Thomas were both like that: sunny.

“I see you made use of the space.” Mia finally looks down.

“Oh shit! We weren’t sure how long the show was delayed, but Tom thought we had more time to, you know, finish. I wouldn’t touch his guitar if I were you.”

“Ew! You guys are disgusting, I’m so happy for you.” 

“Yeah, thank you!” she laughs. “Let me just...” Mia ducks into Thomas’ dressing room and fixes her top. “So, c’mon let’s go watch.”

“I, um…We’re not back together.”

“Okay, but I’m sure Dam would love to see you out there.”

“I can’t be filmed or photographed today. Also if you could not tell anyone that I’m here?”

“Uh, sure,” she’s put off, torn between staying backstage with you and watching the show.

“But, you go ahead! I have a ton of work stuff anyway, so I’m actually gonna be busy.” A total lie, but Mia isn’t the type to question the authenticity of a friend.

“Oh, okay! Love ya, good luck!” She pulls you in for a goodbye side hug, and practically skips down the hall. Was Damiano expecting to see you in front of the barricade? He probably hadn’t thought about the social media and paparazzi component, which meant he’d be disappointed. This realization didn’t change anything, it just made you miserable. 

Except for the roadies, it's just you backstage. The actual concert was their time off, since they began hauling gear in total darkness as soon as the band finished. Despite how labor intensive their jobs were, the crew was in good spirits, their laughter echoing down the hall. They wore all black with tattoos scribbled on their forearms and cursed as much as possible. You consider saying hi, but this is no longer your space. It'd be like walking into your childhood bedroom with the Justin Bieber posters, hot pink bedspread, and tinkerbell night light still intact. You were visiting a past life, like a ghost.

While Thomas opens the encore with his solo, Dami runs back to his dressing room. You know that his body has become dependent on coke to get through a show and that if he stops now, he’ll crash before you can hand him off to the professionals. Still, it's awkward for both parties. Damiano pulls the pill case from his purse and looks at you with a pained expression.

“I…can’t do this while you’re watching.”

“Right, okay.” You stand up and gesture towards the door. “So I’ll just…”

“No, no, you shouldn’t have to leave. I’ll just go in the bathroom.” Dami closes the door halfway and hesitates because that seems a bit excessive.

“Are you gonna shove it up your ass or?” Dami’s laughter bounces off of the tiles.

“No, I only do that on certain occasions.”

“Like a birthday special?”

“Exactly.” You can hear the tap of something plastic against the porcelain sink. “Can you tell me you’re disappointed in me or something? This feels wrong.” You try to come up with something to say, but end up blanking.

“You are…a very bad boy.”

“Kinky.”

“Ugh, I’m trying! Disappointing…your behavior is disappointing. You are too grown not to know better. Refusing to acknowledge a problem exists is…counter productive to healing. You need to prioritize healing because nobody can do that for you. You have –”

“Okay, done!”

“Thank god.”

“See you in 15!” You walk around the kitchen collecting possibly useful supplies for the car ride, plus the pizza box with Dami’s name on it. The chauffeur walks down the hall with Damiano’s clothes in a garment bag.

“Your flight departs in two hours and 41 minutes,” he says in a professional tone. “Shall I take that to the car?”

“Huh?” Oh, thank you.” The jitters have already started to set in. “And has Damiano’s luggage been inspected?”

“Inspected, ma’am?”

“Yes, has someone on their team looked through it?”

“His luggage was packed by a member of their staff, although I am not sure if they inspected it in the process. Should I ask?”

“Yes, please.” He walks away looking bewildered. You hear the final scream of the concert and try to locate Damiano through the rush of activity backstage. Each band member walks towards the dressing rooms with a towel in hand, drying the sweat from their faces. Dami is exhausted, but he smiles wide when he sees you.

“Hey, were you out there?” 

“No, I didn’t want to get mobbed when those photos hit Twitter.”

“Ah, smart.” He’s still disappointed.

“I’m sorry, but I need you to hurry up and shower. There's a change of clothes hanging in the bathroom. Also I made a cup of baking soda and water for your stomach. Our flight leaves in two and a half hours.”

“Jesus.” He pulls his shirt off while walking into the dressing room, the muscles of his slick back rippling. For a moment you’re very distracted with memories of digging your fingernails into that back while he fucked you to overstimulation. Or when you’d peg him from behind, cupping his balls in the palm of your hand, lips to the nape of his neck. Damiano made the most beautiful sounds when he bottomed. So whiny and demanding.

“Y/n? Y/n?”

“Huh?”

“I was saying it's so nice to see you,” Victoria panted. Ethan agrees behind her.

“Yes, you look well.” His formal way of speaking had endeared you from the very first meeting. Tom is nowhere to be found, probably finishing what he and Mia started before the gig.

“Oh uh, thanks. Sorry, I’m distracted. Our flight is…soon. Too soon.”

“Like tonight?” Victoria exclaims, pulling her own shirt off. She was bare breasted and unapologetic as per usual.

“Yeah, I guess the sooner, the better.”

“So he’s really going? Of his own volition?” 

“Mhm! He’ll be in the facility by breakfast tomorrow.” 

“Oh my god, that's amazing,” Ethan lets out a huge sigh of relief and Vic grins.

“I’d hug you if I wasn’t disgusting.”

“Well, that’d just give me a boner,” you deadpan. Nobody loved raunchy, flirtatious humor like Victoria.

“Ooh, well since you and Dam are on a break…” She wiggles her eyebrows and shimmies closer, sauntering around you with a provocative expression. Meanwhile, Ethan is silently laughing with his eyes scrunched. It's enough to evoke a genuine smile, but also your heart aches for the months you’d missed with these dumbasses.

“Since he’s busy, do you want me to show you what it’s supposed to feel like?” She gives an over exaggerated wink. There had been a strictly no band members policy in your non-monogamy.

“I heard that! Keep your paws off of her, Vic!!” Dami yells from the bathroom.

“Ugh, fine!” She gives your ass a robust slap before disappearing into her dressing room. Your understanding was that “on a break” and broken up were vastly different things, even though phonetics would suggest otherwise. Had Damiano lied or were you reading too much into it? And why did it make you so happy? Before you can get caught in a hell cycle of intrusive thoughts, Ronnie walks up and hugs you. 

“I’m really glad you came,” he admits, pulling away. Your arms hang limply by your sides in surprise. Ronnie wasn’t the hugging type or the emotional type, but his eyes are glassy. It throws you off guard even further.

“You okay?”

“What? Yeah.” He clears his throat roughly. “And we checked everything twice. Someone is currently wiping out Damiano’s purse, just for you.” 

“We can’t all be rock ‘n roll. Some of us have to be anal as fuck.”

“Agreed. I just wanted to wish you luck.” He gives a tight lipped smile and continues down the hall.

“Am I gonna need it?”

“Hopefully not,” he yells over his shoulder.

“Very reassuring, thanks.”

Notes: This is queue. I am currently camping because today is the anniversary of my grandmother's death. Taglist will be updated when I return. Thank you for reading, I promise it gets way less depressing really soon.

-XOXO Eden

Taglist (or taglist removal)

Masterlist

@surelyfreedombound @shinshans @lonnybunnys @davianos-blog @hauntedpostperson @lizzylynch1 @kammerstx@harryssshouseee @slavicgoddess13 @persona1read1ng@katyldamusic @whore4damia @the-chaotic-cow@icarodamiano @gr8rainbowpunk@elvirabelle@bright-shiningstar@maneslut @stardustingold @little-moonbeam-666@que--sera--sera

#maneskin #måneskin #damiano david #må #damiano #damiano maneskin #maneskin damiano #damiano david x reader #damiano david fanfiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david x y/n #damiano david x you

[lexsnotdead]

Sometimes i forget that Delilah/Breanna aren't 100% canon to everyone bc of "ambiguous relationship" part and some people not wanting to see them as bi & lesbian

And it drives me insane

Everytime i see fic where Delilah or Breanna call each other friends while being alone (or in their own thoughts) I want to bite 😭😭 Something or someone

I sit here and think "Breanna sacrificing 10+ years or her life to save Delilah from her death AND falling on her knees for her is so friendly fr"

I'm okay with people who think that they're way too toxic or something/"Delilah can't love" but Breanna is a walking fruit basket. She radiates "gay".

~~~~~~~~

Sorry for whole essay about Bree and Del but my anonymous ass trusts that you'd understand me at least to some degree bc you ship them

Hope ur doing well, sending best wishes for the week lol

HI ANON YOU CANNOT IMAGINE THE AMOUNT OF SEARCHING I DID FOR THIS. anyway. okay... deep breath... yeah, i know, it drives me insane as well. although i haven't come across a Hot Take like that in ages, most likely because i was blocking on sight for this. "not 100% canon to everyone" have we played the same game? maybe it's easy for me to say because i myself am a wlw and i KNOW yuri when i see one. it is really hard for me to imagine how can one look at the way breanna and delilah talk to each other and fail to spot the profound pinning.

• delilah saying "murderer! you can't understand what she meant to me", when you kill breanna in front of her. • delilah saying "you're the only one i trust". • delilah swinging her sword at you with "this is for what you did to breanna", in the last mission. • a with in the royal conservatory saying "breanna was with delilah when you were sucking on your mother's tit. it's not a joke to them" • breanna's surprise when she spots corvo "a man? here?!" is truly a Peak Lesbian Moment. - i could go on and on.

OHHH AND THE LETTER. THE LETTER!! it makes me lose my mind every time i read it!! whatever breanna had going on in there is more lesbian than eating pussy.

"When we can't talk, I write. There are things only you will understand. (...) If we were together, I could say more! It is as if I can see beyond the air, into another time or place. (...) Oh, Delilah, strange and beautiful whispers are carried on the breeze. I am forever grateful of being your instrument." >>> i'm madly in love with you.

how can you read this and go hmm yeah they were definitely besties! MUST EVERYTHING BE DIRECT FOR YOU PEOPLE?? sorry to disappoint, but that's not how sapphics express attraction. learn to read between the lines. because this, too, is yuri.

and the wiki page is to blame for the "ambiguous" part. BECAUSE HARVEY SMITH DIDN'T SAY "AMBIGUOUS". HE DID NOT. harvey confirmed their relationship some time back in 2016, but since then he deleted all of his tweets and we were left with no elaboration. and as for now it is almost impossible to find sources. "almost". he-he. wink. i saved that from a tumblr post god knows how long ago and couldn't find the op. if anyone knows who to credit for this, i'd be grateful.

does "i totally assumed that" equal uncertainty? maybe my non-native ass is missing something, but it all seems very clear to me.

which makes "some people not wanting to see them as bi & lesbian" part even more frustrating. they are both indisputably queer! and that being stated by the dev and not in the game itself is not an excuse to deny their sexuality and ship breanna with men.

harvey's tweet and in-game lines combined should be enough evidence to prove that delilah and breanna were, in fact, lovers, and if anyone says otherwise, it's a conscious choice to deny/ignore it for whatever reasons, not because there isn't enough evidence for their relationship. believe me, anon, i share every drop of irritation you have in double.

and "delilah can't love" is another very big topic where i could talk for hours and i would rather not make this reply any longer than it has to be. i already ranted quite a lot here haha. anyway, ty for the ask! :] i'm always happy to write mini-essays about delilah and breanna. i hope you have a great day as well!!

#historians will say that they were best friends #lex.txt

[writer-in-theory]

m&ms and healing — aaron hotchner

summary: hotch misses the days when everyone had fun in the office. he’s determined to bring that back. request: Hello I saw your thing abt random conversations and also writing requests and so like I was thinking you remember early CM where Gideon was eating a fruit (tangerine? Mandarin?) and while talking casually shared pieces with Elle and stuff? We didn't see that in the later seasons as much and I think that's a grave loss. Like yeah, there were team dinners and stuff but like. Think of Emily eating M&Ms or something and Morgan just fucken opening his mouth real wide waiting for her to notice and throe one in. Then they bring throw-able snacks to work for expressly that purpose. JJ gets in on it willingly, but they have to bribe Reid by bringing a snack he really likes and saying he can /only/ eat them if he lets them throw whatever food into his mouth. For Hotch, he misses the physics magic days. pairing: none, gen fic category: hurt/comfort content warnings: spoilers through season 7, discussions of the team eating snacks, brief mentions of hankel and doyle word count: 1.3k

summer of fics masterlist masterlist want to join my taglist?

The change wasn’t obvious at first. It happened so slowly that Hotch wondered if maybe no one else had noticed at first, either. That maybe, this was a part of the normal evolution of life and maybe the team wasn’t meant to stay as close as they once were.

But no, that couldn’t be true, either, because the team was as close as before, maybe even more so. Hotch didn’t miss the way Derek’s hand would linger on Spencer’s shoulder when he checked in on the other man, and the way JJ would always look to Emily when a case even resembling Doyle would come up as if cataloging and checking every minute change in the woman’s face to find a sign of her struggling.

The moment Hotch could tell what was different should have been insignificant. He’d rushed to his office after, feeling out of breath despite no physical activity out of the norm for him. It made sense why he hadn’t noticed it until now—no one ate in the office anymore.

It had happened so subtly that Hotch wasn’t sure when it stopped. Had it been when Gideon quit the team and stopped bringing in all those little mandarin oranges? Or maybe it was when Elle left, who everyone brought a snack for because she seemed to immerse herself in certain cases more intensely than others. It could have been when Spencer was held hostage by Hankel, when the physics magic stopped occurring so too did the joyful exchange of tiny hand-held foods.

There were so many moments experienced over the years by the team, so many that should have been the main impactor that there was no way to trace back the end of it all. What Hotch knew though, was that the team was irreparably changed, and he missed them.

Back then, he’d been annoyed when he’d walk into the office to see Morgan and Prentiss throwing popcorn at each other’s open mouths, cheering loudly when one of them made the shot. He shook his head and pretended he wasn’t amused when JJ was brought into the ordeal, the other woman bringing in a little bag of M&Ms and declaring that she could get Spencer on board if they switched to those.

Within two weeks, they had nearly the entire team in on it, tossing little candy pieces at each other sometimes so wildly that there was no way they were aiming at the intended target. He’d never noticed it before, but Hotch’s report writing grew more productive when he worked to the sound of his team’s joyous laughter.

Now, he only wrote to silence.

It wasn’t that they didn’t love each other, but maybe that they did too much now. They’ve been through too much in such a short amount of time—more than anyone should ever have to go through in a lifetime much less a measly handful of years. Hotch could see the heavy signs of care and yet all he wished for now was the mess of M&Ms coating the BAU office floor.

Maybe that was why, the next time he found his way to a grocery store, Hotch bought the largest bag of M&Ms he could find along with a bag of pre-popped popcorn.

He put off setting it out for another couple of weeks. It was easy to blame on cases—they’d had a few tough ones in recent months and he didn’t want to seem callous by setting out a bowl of candy after a loss of a case.

Eventually, though, there was nothing to do but try to let his team know that he loved them. So, he found a spare Tupperware bowl in the breakroom that must have been abandoned years ago. He dumped the snacks into it and simply left it by the microwave, hoping one of them would realize what he was trying to tell them. What he was begging for, really.

Because Hotch could not imagine this team without any of the individual members there now. Yet, the way they were going now he knew they would lose another one too quickly to burnout, or grief, or simple yet unbearable exhaustion. It was how they’d lost Gideon and Elle, two team members that he wished could have met their newest addition. Two team members who felt more like family than anyone Hotch had worked with back in Seattle. 

It was JJ who noticed first. 

“Derek, did you bring this?” she called one day, leaning her head out of the breakroom’s doorframe. 

Unfortunately, Hotch’s phone rang before he could hear an answer, but it must not have been enough because the floor was nearly silent by the time the call ended.

It eventually was Derek who made the first move. Hotch could always count on Derek to notice when a team member—a family member—needed help. Sometimes in the physical sense, always being the one kicking down the door when one of their own was hurt, but more often than not he was the one making sure their souls were as unscarred as possible. When Spencer was rescued from Hankel, it was Derek who sat in a stiff hospital chair all night just to make sure the other man wouldn’t wake up alone. And though it had been JJ who remained in contact with Emily after her supposed death, it was Derek who came by her apartment when she admitted a month later that she wasn't sure it would ever feel like home again.

And it was Derek Morgan who noticed Hotch’s offer, who noticed what he was trying to tell him.

“Hey, Reid, catch!” Derek laughed, tossing an M&M the man’s way even though Spencer hadn’t fully turned yet. Spencer seemed startled, head reeling back as though the candy had been weighty.

“When was the last time we did that?” JJ asked, turning her chair to accept a piece herself, moving forward in order to catch it in her mouth and cheering happily when she managed.

“It’s been too long.”

Once the idea was set in all of them, there was no stopping it. Soon enough the entire group was laughing and smiling as they had once before, tossing dozens of M&Ms at each other and making a bigger mess than they ever had before. Hotch wouldn’t complain though, he wouldn’t even feign annoyance like when Reid would show off his physics magic.

No, this time he’d leave his office door propped open and he’d smile, finally working on some old paperwork to the raucous sounds of his team’s joy.

GENERAL TAGLIST @samuel-de-champagne-problems @silverhetdanes @ssawonderland @reidsbookclub @katymarie @mrsobrien888 @writingquillsandpainpills @fightingdragonswithreid @lil-stark @raythefaye @stillsleepynat @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @givemeth @foxy-eva @lilibet261 @exhaleli @darkeunology @nomajdetective @meggie-m00n @delicatespencer @serenity-lattes @goldentournesol @rexorangecouny @sultrypotter @reliefplease @mente-sindescanso @jj76889 @luna-novae @folkreid @nightmarewasteland @luredwithpretzels

ONESHOT TAGLIST @natashxromanovfreads @nano-noa

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #gen fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner as bau dad #jay writes in theory

[edjectedly]

Hi Spacey! Let's start with all the batkids arguing. Then one of them "ketchup a vegetable".

Give me caos!💜🦹🏻‍♀️

Here you go! Kudos on being the first prompt! Let me know if you like it! 💚

~~~~~

“Drake’s palette is as unrefined as he is. It is simply disgusting, and I refuse to let him eat near me.”

“You’re the one with a problem, Demon. You can leave if you have a problem with me actually taking care of myself for once.”

Damian squawked indignantly, before snapping, “Very bold of you to call that meal you taking care of yourself.”

Tim just shrugged smirking, only furthering the anger of the youngest Wayne. Dick knew exactly what was about to happen and made eye contact with Jason. His younger brother nodded and jerked his head towards Tim and then looked at Damian, then back to Dick. He nodded back and held up three fingers. 3… 2… 1…!

Right as Damian launched himself at Tim, Jason yanked the nerd back while Dick grabbed Damian’s waist and pulled him back.

“No fighting at breakfast!” Dick chirped, forcing a struggling Damian back into his chair. “Now, can we please eat like civilized people?”

“Drake’s eating habits are anything but civil,” Damian bit out, glaring daggers at a grinning Tim.

Jason smacked the back of Tim’s head, “Stop antagonizing Squirt over there Replacement. No wonder so many people try to maim you, jesus.”

“I feel like what I eat is my own business, thank you very much.” Tim says, pulling himself out of Jason’s grasp and sitting back down at the table.

Jason glanced over Tim’s head at the plate in front of him before wrinkling his nose. “I don’t think I’d consider what’s on your plate as food, but you do you, I guess.”

Glancing down at the plate, Dick kind of understood what Jason meant. There were two pieces of toast, one practically still just bread and the other one absolutely charred, a wide arrange of apple slices, which was weird because Alfred only stocked Fuji apples unless he was making apple pie, bacon that was coated in syrup, and then what was probably ketchup, but Dick was surely hoping it was just messed up strawberry syrup, all stacked on top of each other. 

Honestly, Dick didn’t think it was that bad. In fact, he had probably eaten something very similar. The only thing that bugged him about this was the dichotomy of toast and the ketchup.

“I don’t see the big deal as long as I’m eating.”

“Well,” Dick tried, hoping to diffuse the tension already building again, “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

Jason snorts, crossing his arms over his chest, “Mhm, course you don’t Goldie. I remember what shit you’d eat when I was a kid. I mean come on, you both have access to Alfred’s cooking!”

“I mean yeah, but there’s something fun about making your own thing!”

“See,” Tim starts, swallowing a piece of his sticky bacon, “Dick gets me.”

“I get you on everything that isn’t the ketchup on your plate, why did you put ketchup on all of your food?”

“Oh,” Tim smiles, and Dick just knows that in a second Damian is most definitely going to try and kill him for whatever he says, “I need to eat more vegetables.”

Oh god, Tim why?

Jason blinks a couple times. “Okay. No. You’re a stupid genius, why the fuck are you eating ketchup if you need vegetables.”

“Ketchup is a vegetable.”

“Tomatoes are fruits!”

“Yeah, but this is ketchup.”

“Tim, I am going to kill you and let Damian help.”

Why could Dick never get a normal breakfast? What was so wrong with his family that murder was threatened at most meals?

Prompt Rules Here!

#prompt #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #Tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #bat bros #bat brothers #batfam #ace writes #things I say #tw food #cw food

[lindonorris]

Details, a shortfic with Charles Leclerc! part 3

(3/?)

That night Soraia and Elena had to leave early so they could get her flight back to London. 

Elena had a new shoot early in the morning and they still had to go through the schedule of the next weeks. 

About two hours and a half they arrived at the Heathrow Airport, going straight to Elena’s apartment.

“Go take a shower. I’ll get everything ready for tomorrow and then we can rest for a bit more.” Soraia said, putting her laptop on the table. 

“That’s why I love you!” Elena said, kissing the blonde’s cheek and running to the bathroom. 

“Yeah whatever, I know you’re only using me.” Soraia laughed when Elena scoffed. “Love you too, silly.” 

(...)

“What are we going to watch?” Elena asked Soraia, it was Tuesday night.

“Probably something from Marvel.” Soraia shrugged. “You know we are not really going to watch anything.” She said while laughing. “We always start talking and it becomes just background noise.” Soraia rolled her eyes, chuckling. It was true, they had always done that, putting on a movie and as soon as it starts, they drift away from the story and start talking about whatever happened through their day. 

Not even fifteen minutes into the movie, Elena fully turned her body to look at Soraia.

“You know, Charles got way more fit than last time we saw him.” Soraia burst out a laugh. 

“Really, that’s what you were thinking?” Soraia asked in disbelief.

“Well, a whole snack as his fans would say.” She had a smirk on her face.

“Oh my fucking God, what would your brother say about this.” Soraia was laughing so much her whole face was getting red.

“He wouldn’t know.” She shrugged again. Laughing along with Soraia. “Is not like we’re going to date or anything just because I said he looks good. Also, I remember him saying he likes someone.” 

“And who you think it is?” Soraia curiously asked.

“I have no idea.” Elena responded, crossing her legs comfortably on the sofa, looking back at the TV and pulling on a weird face.

“Why that face?” Soraia threw a pillow at her.

“I don’t know, I feel weird talking about this.” It was Soraia’s turn to smirk.

“Is that some kind of jealousy?” Elena threw the cushion back at her friend. 

“Shut up, no?” She stuck her tongue out. “I think I’m going to bed.” She said, feeling her phone vibrate and unlocking her phone to read the new message she got. 

Night Elena, Charles here.

Just wanted to thank you for the talk we had the other day.

I thought a lot about what you said.

It’s stupid to keep myself from what I’m feeling, I think I’m gonna tell her.. 

Have a nice week!

“Alright. I’ll go too.” Soraia said, turning the TV off. “Good night, te amo!”

“Buenas noches, yo también te amo.” Elena sighed, still not sure about what to respond to Charles or even what she was feeling at the moment.

Hey Charles!

It was nothing really, I meant what I said, she’s lucky to have you.

Have a nice week you too.

Good night!

Next thing Elena knew, she was waking up with her alarm blasting off some Justin Bieber song.

“Oh God, never hated this song so much like right now.” Truth is, Elena didn’t sleep that much she planned. She spent hours and hours rolling around the bed and thinking about what Soraia said to her. Why did she felt weird talking about Charles crushing on someone? They were never close friends, never talked much more than the last time, and in fact barely knew each other. All she knew from him was what Carlos said about his new teammate and current best friend. And yet, she felt kinda jealous about the thougth of Charles liking someone, kissing someone, loving someone. 

“Fuck.” She murmured, getting up of the bed, she still had a lot of time to get ready for work so she opted for a long shower and then going to get something to eat until Soraia got back from her morning run. 

“Awww.” Elena cooed, arriving at the kitchen and seeing a tray filled with fruits and every type of healthy food she could eat. Even though is was not usual, from time to time Soraia would get Elena’s breakfast ready before she even woke up.

Today was not the case. 

She opened the little card inside the tray, sitting next to an little arrangement of orange roses. 

"If I could be with anyone, 

I’d still choose to be with you.

Hope you have a beautiful day, just like you." 

Was printed in a pretty light yellow card.

“What the fuck?” She asked herself. “Who is doing this?” She asked Soraia, seeing as the woman entered the kitchen wearing her running attire. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I just received it at the door. The deliveryman said it was directed to your name and I just arranged it at the table. Also, I stole a little bit of the strawberries.” She answered, mumbling the last part. 

“Okay, let’s just eat and get going.” Elena sighed, she knew Soraia knew who was the person sending those things. “At least tell me if those are from the same person from Italy?” 

“Yes. Wanna know the meaning behind the colour of the roses?” Soraia asked letting out an excited squeal, soon throwing her hands up in surrender, explaining herself. “I researched it before going out. Its normally used when the person admire you from afar, it is mixed with more intense feelings of care, affection, loyalty, and the beginning of a new romantic relationship.” 

Elena nodded, taking in all the information Soraia threw her way. It was crazy how that made her heart fill with joy. All the caring that the person had to choose even the color of the flowers. 

(...)

“Hola mamá! Estás muy hermosa hoy!” Elena said, answering the videocall from her mother. She was at another shoot location while Eddie, Vogue’s hairstylist, worked on her hair and Elliot applied makeup at her face. Soraia was sat on the other side of the rooom, doing something on her laptop. Hello mommy, you look beautiful today!*

“Gracias mi amor!” Her mother thanked, throwing a kiss at her. “Te llamé para preguntarte si te parece bien que cocinemos la cena para los amigos de tu hermano. Isa también estará aquí. Puedes traer a Soraia si quieres. Sé que le diste unas pequeñas vacaciones, si ella no tiene ningún plan, puedes traerla aquí”. I called to ask if it's okay if we cook dinner for your brother's friends. Isa will also be here. You can bring Soraia if you want. I know you gave her a little vacation, if she don’t have any plans yet you can bring her here.*

“Espera, eso es demasiada información mamá!” Elena laughed. “Está bien para mi. La invitaré. Es genial que Isa esté con nosotras esta vez, ¿la has visto?” It's great that Isa will be with us this time,have you seen her?*

Coincidentally the Spanish GP would happen at the same time as Elena would take a few weeks off to rest from the rush that had been her life for the last few months. She was excited that she could relax for a bit and have her family reunited at their homerace. 

They spent another ten minutes catching up until someone knocked at the door. She ended the call promising her mother she would call soon.

“Flowers and a decaf for you.” The intern said, handing Elena the cup of decaf coffee she had asked and an arrangement of pretty sunflowers.

“Your boyfriend has been spoiling you a lot lately.” Eddie commented. Both girls had spend a lot of time accompanied by Eddie and Elliot in the past two weeks due to their project with Vogue. And they noticed that every two or three days she would receive flowers and cards. 

“I told you I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t even know who is sending me these. All I know is Soraia has probably been updating this person on my schedule. He sends this wherever I am.” 

“Yeah, anyways, let’s read what this one says.” By now Soraia was standing besides her, curious about what was written on the card.

She was used to the “Been missing your smile since you left.” “Can’t wait to see you again.” and all that lovey dovey things he said in the other cards. 

But there were some of them that usually took her breath away. 

Like the note she received along with the beautiful necklace she was wearing. The one with a little red ruby pendant.

“Truth is, I’m crazy for you and everyone can see that, but you.”

That was when she found out that she knew her secret admirer. Not who he was, in fact. But now at least she knew that he was someone recorrent in her life. 

Or the note where she found out that he was someone who worked with her brother. He could be a mechanic, someone from the Ferrari crew or even a worker from another team. All she knew was that he knew her brother. 

"Not long until we see each other again, love.

Your brother is really excited that you’ll be with him at the Spanish GP."

And with that card, a box full of Spanish candies that reminded her childhood along her brother. 

“Come on, let me see that.” Eddie said, snatching the card from her hands and waking her up from her daydreams. The man cleared his throat, straining his voice a little as he read that out loud, making everyone in the room laugh.

“According to popular wisdom, the sunflower means happiness. It faces wherever the sun is, even if it is hidden behind a cloud. He is always in search of light, vitality, strength, beauty. And somehow I see myself like this. Unconsciously I always searched for this. You. See you in four days.” 

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Soraia said, after everyone kept silent. “Even when I thought he couldn’t be more cute. There he goes.” She sighs. “Seriously, you have no idea who he is?” Elena shakes her head no.

“I have a faint idea of who it could be. But I’m not sure.” That was her time to sigh.

A/N: A chapter to fill you guys on the story a little bit. Next one they are seeing each other again. What do you guys think? Does Elena knows that Charles is her secret admirer?

#carlos sainz fluff #charlesleclerc #charles leclerc imagines #carlos sainz imagine #f1 fandom #sochi gp f1 #f1 #pierre gasly #lando norris #pierre gasly imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo #ferrari

[anxiouslyfred]

Avoiding Poison

Summary: Remus wants to cook a meal for everyone but doesn't know what poisons he needs to avoid for the light sides. When he tries to steal a recipe book from Roman to find out Roman decides to help him cook.

/\/\

Remus wanted to do something for everyone, maybe use it as an excuse to get messy without getting told off if possible. He hadn't seen Janus much recently and thought his attempts to cause mischief and get Logan to relax had probably not been as helpful as he'd imagined they would be, so was trying to think of something Roman might do if trying to help the others.

Cooking had been the first thing he'd thought of, but he didn't know the things that poisoned the light sides well enough to cook for them. There were already plenty of poisons to avoid for Remus, Janus and Virgil so what possible poisons needed subtracting for Roman, Patton and Logan?

He could ask for help, probably, but that felt like cheating, especially when Roman's room was right there, and could have recipe books with any poisons indicated or scribbled out, or whatever Roman did to avoid using them.

“What are you doing?” Roman asked from where he'd been bent over his desk before Remus had gotten halfway across the room.

“Borrowing a book?” Remus asked remaining frozen in position for as long as he could.

His brother turned around, glancing over his shelves, specifically the ones Remus was heading towards. “The weapons guides are behind you or are you actually trying to get my recipe books?”

“I need to know what poisons you all to avoid it when cooking! Thought getting a recipe would be a good start!” Remus exclaimed, gesturing wildly.

“Poisons? Aren't normally included in recipes?” Roman frowned, getting up from his desk to pick out one of the books. “Why would you need to avoid anything in what you cook?”

Remus gaped for a moment. “There's so many poisons included in recipes that Janus and I regularly go through any book we get labelling the substitutions needed for any to be edible!”

“That's sounds really unlikely to me. I'll cook with you, if only to understand what poisons you're talking about. What were you wanting to make?” Roman shook his head as if dismissing his confusion, before flicking to the contents page.

“Mud Pie. Mud's glorious to eat.” Remus promptly stated.

“Mud isn't meant to be edible, so let's find an equivalent from actual foods. How about this, almond and green bean pie?” Roman's finger traced the page before stopping on his suggested recipes.

Remus scowled. “Poisonous!”

“How?”

“Nuts and beans are poison to Janus! We can't make that!” He explained, going to snatch the book away from Roman.

Roman pushed him back before flicking to the page, “Okay but if we use something else for those ingredients maybe it could work. Janus drinks wine, so berries would be okay, right?”

“But last week you said that wasn't a dinner food.” Remus whined, upset that his plans to make dinner were being changed to a dessert.

“Yeah, like anyone other than Logan will protest a sweeter dinner. We'll just explain that creative meals being made to serve everybody must be adjusted when necessary, or that we took inspiration from crofters while we were cooking. One of those will convince him to have dinner with us if he argues.” Roman offered, already leaving his room for the kitchen with the recipe book still in his hands.

…

They'd gotten a fair way into baking before the subject of poison came up again. Roman had decided the easiest way to avoid using the almonds mentioned in their original recipe was to use the pastry recipe from one of the fruit pies in the book and hand been reaching for an orange when it was slapped out of his hand, rolling away on the floor.

“Poison!” Remus glared, “No killing me when I'm trying to be nice!”

Roman blinked, bending to pick it back up, “I've seen you have orange juice before.” He stated, rinsing it off under the tap.

“To remedy Logan's poison agenda!” He was resolutely against the orange and ready to throw it back on the floor if Roman made any move to actually add part of it to the pastry.

After a moments indecision, the orange was placed back into the fruit bowl and Roman was looking at their recipes again. “The 'stay hydrated' one or the dental one? Is this a case of one poison being a remedy for the other?”

“TEETH!” Remus yelled, baring his and getting their faces as close together as he could, trying to disturb his brother.

Roman pushed him away gently with one hand before using it to point to a later part of the process. “Well we were putting off figuring out a substitute for for the spoonful of peanut butter in this, so if we use toothpaste for that and keep in the orange juice then neither you nor Janus should be poisoned?” He suggested, mentally trying to imagine what this pie that was becoming some weird fruit pie with reduced sugar content was going to end up tasting like if mint was included as yet another flavour.

“Berries and mint, berries and mint! I'm a little rascal who loves berries and mint!” Remus obviously agreed to the idea as he danced around the kitchen for a moment.

…

“Don't you guys have poisons to avoid? All those substitutions were for me and Janjan. Even Virgil's poisons didn't get brought up.” Remus asked, leaning on the counter and undoubtedly getting his tights covered in flour left from rolling the pastry out.

Roman didn't try getting him off the surface, knowing the next perch could very well be on top of the oven that was now cooking their dinner. “No? Logan's picky about storing cleaning supplies and other chemicals separately but those aren't edible regardless. I don't think any of us have allergies either.”

“Soooo, deodorants and bleach is poisonous to you if eaten?” He asked, head quirking to one side before he twisted again to look at the cupboard under the sink.

“And to Thomas as well.” Roman nodded, grabbing the last of the utensils they'd used to begin washing up.

Remus remained staring for a moment before shrugging, “You guys are weird.”

…

Roman probably should have just called for everyone himself, but Remus looked so excited to have cooked them dinner that it felt only right to ask him to gather everyone to the table.

“Dinner Time!” Remus cried out as if it was a battle charge, before bounding away and coming back with a struggling Virgil over one shoulder and mildly confused but accepting Janus on his other. “Sit, Stay! I gotta fetch Loputer and Moribear!” He ordered them, already racing away.

When Roman had finished setting the table and was about to bring the pie over Remus came dashing in, the 2 missing sides under each arm. “Dinner Time! Presented by His Majesty, Prince Roman and His Grace, Duke Remus!” He declared, placing the pie with a flourish while Logan and Patton were still blinking in confusion at being released.

“Kiddos, are you sure this is - “ Patton didn't finish his question.

Remus had thrown himself back, chair and all falling to the floor. “He hates me, thinks I'd poison you when we've done everything, anything to avoid anybody being poisoned.”

“Remus, do stop being melodramatic. Patton merely isn't aware of your sensitivities to foods yet, nor your determination to avoid anything that upsets anyone else's stomachs when cooking for more than yourself.” Janus rolled his eyes, already reaching out for the serving slice.

Roman took his seat at the table now, with a reassuring smile. “I can confirm that we've either substituted out anything that is a poison to someone at the table or substituted in the remedy. If I may say so myself it's quite the creative combination of flavours.”

“Yup and it's gonna be the best pie ever made! I even kept note of our substitutions so we can make it again next month!” Remus agreed, bouncing back up and nodding wildly.

“Congrats, Pat. Those family meals you keep wishing we could have just became a thing. You should be thanking Remus.” Virgil muttered, but had a small smile as he accepted his slice from Janus.

#cw poison #creativitwins #remus sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins bonding #allergies are poisons

[rebrandedstoryline]

Rebranded - 12.3 - Revelations

Ayala learns something unpleasant about Sun and Moon. She corrects this problem. And Sun gets a bit emotional.

Word Count: 1,543

“Trash? You’re telling me that he’s been eating actual trash?” Ayala questioned, her voice suddenly taking on a rather stern tone. She very clearly did not like having heard what she had just been told. The solar animatronic offered a slow nod, unsure as to why she seemed to be so bothered by this revelation.

“Well, yes. The primary reasons behind our upgrades were to reduce our need to connect to a power grid and to reduce the amount of trash exported by Fazbear. The Pizza Plex would have produced a lot of waste if it had ever regained former popularity. That would mean a lot of food scraps and paper waste. Additionally, in my case, I would also be able to encourage kids to eat their fruits and vegetables.” Sun explained, speaking in a very matter-of-fact tone as he answered Ayala’s question. “... In Chica’s case, the upgrade would have played a vital part in keeping her out of parts and services. She had a corrupted string of code that gave her an obsessive compulsive disorder. Prior to the upgrade, she would try to eat trash and it would jam up her internal workings.” He added, not even sounding slightly bothered by the fact that he had been specifically designed to eat trash.

The woman only seemed to grow more distressed upon hearing this.

“You... You guys can’t actually taste it though, right?” Ayala inquired, at this point blindly grasping for any snippet of information that would somehow make this situation less horrific from a human standpoint. The idea of being forced to live off of trash was not a good one. It was something literally considered inhumane and probably illegal; if it was something a human was being forced to endure. That question was what made the animatronic offer an unhappy expression.

“Unfortunately, we can taste everything just fine. Apparently being able to taste what we’re consuming is meant to allow us to be able to differentiate between what is consumable and what isn’t. Metal and stone taste very different from paper and wood.” Sun explained, a sort of scowl on his face as he did so. “It’s... It’s not all that pleasant, but it serves a purpose! Trash is messy and attracts pests. Pests carry diseases, which could make people sick. So the easiest solution is to get rid of the trash in a clean and efficient way. By consuming it.” He added, attempting to validate the importance of his unfortunate circumstances.

At this point, Ayala responded by abruptly getting up. Apparently whatever work she had to get started could actually wait. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

“Yeah, no. Go get Moon.” Ayala ordered rather sternly, walking past the very confused Sun as she made her way back into the kitchen.

Still, the animatronic complied. His assumption was that she was about to establish some additional house rules for them to follow. Ergo, Sun made his way over to the closet that his brother had claimed as their hideaway hole.

Being polite, he knocked before opening the door.

“What?” Moon grumbled, clearly not in the mood to be disturbed. He reacted to the light much like a nocturnal animal, curling away from it as if he needed to protect his eyes. Not that he actually needed to do so, he was simply in a bad mood and wanted to be left alone.

“Ayala would like to talk with us.” Sun responded, his voice sounding rather apologetic. He did not wish to bother his brother. Still, if the woman wished to speak to Moon, then Moon would have to reluctantly comply.

Such was noted as he began to get up so that he could crawl out of the closet. The space was not tall enough for him to properly stand, so he had to kneel and creep out.

“What does she want?” Moon grumbled, getting himself out of the closet and standing up. Various joints throughout his body clicked as everything settled back into place.

“Well... I’m not sure. I brought up the issues about fuel and she seemed to be upset. So... She might want to establish some more ground rules.” Sun stated, answering Moon’s question with an obvious amount of uncertainty. He honestly wasn’t sure as to why Ayala wanted to talk with them.

The nighttime attendant offered a groan at this, following after his twin as they led him to the kitchen, where they found a rather peculiar sight.

Ayala had started cooking again. Now, Moon was not so much confused as he was annoyed. Sun was the one who had gotten confused. Because Ayala already made herself something to eat. She had a bowl of food sitting on her desk.

Had she just decided that she wanted something else?

“What do you want?” Moon groaned out, annoyed at having been disturbed. He also had no interest in watching the woman cook. He was not like Sun in that regard. He more or less had the mindset that he would stick to what he was good at and leave it at that.

In other words, he had no interest in branching out and learning new skills.

The woman did not immediately respond. She simply finished with whatever she had started to make; which seemed to be some sort of crispy little cake made from the mashed potatoes. She made multiple of them and put them on a plate.

Once she had finished cooking, she brought that plate over to the animatronics and held it out for them.

“Eat.” Ayala commanded, sort of glaring up at the two. Which, naturally, confused the animatronics.

Was she mad at them?

Was she mad that she had to feed them?

Sun had already explained that they could subsist on the unwanted scraps without issue. Still, she prevented them from asking any further questions. If either Sun or Moon attempted to speak; and they did; she immediately shut them down with a repeat of her command.

She was not asking them to eat. She was telling them to eat.

Sun was the first to do so, though he did so awkwardly. He was unfamiliar with food prepared in this manner.

Still, he ate it.

To his surprise, it was rather pleasant. Actually, it was probably the most delicious thing that he had had the luxury of eating.

Then again, he was accustomed to soggy pizza crusts and actual trash. Any normal food would be ambrosia by comparison.

“Golly~ This is really nice. What is it~?” Sun inquired, smiling down at the woman with a curious expression. While he was still a bit confused about having been ordered to eat, he could still acknowledge that the food was delicious.

Moon, meanwhile, became hesitant to try the food. And not for the reasons that one might expect. But Ayala’s intense staring inevitably made him obey. If only for now.

The food was good. He just found himself not wanting to eat it.

“Potato cakes.” Ayala replied, before turning around to make her way back to the stove to clean up the mess she had just made. “I figured it’d be easier for you to eat than straight up mashed potatoes.” She added, bringing the dirty dishes to the sink so that she could wash them.

“Well... If you say so. But...” Sun began to speak, only to cut himself off. He wanted to ask why she had gone out of her way to make them something to eat. Then he recalled a phrase that she had told them when they first became acquainted with each other.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth”.

Don’t question a gift someone gives you, simply accept it.

The woman, meanwhile, was more or less able to guess what the question would have been.

“Look. This isn’t Fazbear. This is a Home. My home. While you’re here, I’m going to take care of you. I don’t produce enough trash to keep you two charged, and even if I did, I wouldn’t want you eating it. Its trash. I have other means of getting rid of it.” Ayala stated, casually responding to the question that Sun failed to actually ask. All while she went about the business of cleaning her dishes. “On the other hand, I can more than afford to buy enough food to keep you two running. You know how cook... Or at least one of you does. If you need to eat something, then eat. You don’t need to ask.” She added, pretty much establishing that she did not want the animatronics eating trash. She would rather them just eat normal food.

Which was admittedly something that neither Sun nor Moon seemed ready to comprehend. Both wound up just standing there silently with some degree of surprise present in their features.

In addition to this, Sun found himself sort of awkwardly glancing between the plate of potato cakes that he was holding, and Ayala. Until eventually his expression contorted a bit.

He suddenly looked as though he might start to cry. His hands even began to shake a bit, causing the plate to rattle somewhat against his palms. This caught the woman off guard, as she couldn’t understand why he suddenly seemed so upset.

#Rebranded #Rebranded AU #Rebranded Storyline #Sundrop #Moondrop #Sun #Moon #Ayala #fnaf:sb #fnaf au

[my-weird-news]

🔥 Unbelievable: Dinner and Hot Girl Walks Exposed! 😱

The Confusing Circus of Trendy "Girl" Labels You won't believe what my TikTok algorithm had the audacity to ask me the other day: "What kind of insufferable girl are you?" I mean, seriously, it's like the algorithm's become a judgmental aunt at a family gathering. The options it presented were a wild trio: "femcel," as in a radical feminist who's allegedly pathologically unlovable; "coquette," for those who adore bows and bop to Lana Del Rey; or "blogger," which, of course, means me. The original video might've been ditched into the digital abyss (too much insufferableness, perhaps), but I'm telling you, it's stuck in my head like gum on a shoe, not because it was an intellectual masterpiece but because it introduced me to another internet "girl" to add to my collection. Just what I needed, right? Welcome to the era of "girl" obsessions, where the internet's gone gaga over half-baked microtrends involving the word "girl." People are blabbering about their "girl dinners," which, let's be honest, are just glorified fridge clean-outs. Oh, and those "hot girl walks" we're all taking? Yeah, they're just regular strolls with extra flair. And don't forget the "feral girl summers" that somehow make us all feel like wilderness warriors. The internet has spiraled into a rabbit hole of absurdities, trying to decide whether they're "strawberry girls," "cherry girls," or even "tomato girls." I swear, it's like we're building a fruit salad cult. We're deep in "girlboss" territory, doing complex equations with our fabulously fabulous friends during the sizzling "hot girl summer." We're gulping down pink goo and green powders, hoping to transform into "clean girls" or "That Girls." But when those plans flop, what are we left with? Apparently, the crown of "insufferable girls." Eating my girl dinner, strolling my hot girl walk, binging on sad girl music, reading feral girl books, dancing with my girlianas, sipping with my girlipops—every day, a snail's pace towards... well, womanhood. — @EmmaKupor, July 10, 2023 Seriously, if you read these trend labels in sequence, you might wonder if we've all lost our marbles. And who's surprised? A good chunk of the folks riding this "girl" wave are women, and it's a smidge demeaning to treat grown women like toddlers playing dress-up. Are 30-year-olds really supposed to care about being a "strawberry girl" or a "cherry girl"? Shouldn't we have cracked the code of our own personalities by now? We could argue that boxing women into these labels reeks of gender stereotyping, or that stamping ordinary behavior as "girl-coded" merely widens the gender gap. But let's not kid ourselves—these aren't trends, they're just slick marketing ploys. Remember that Saturday Night Live skit where they cooked up a fake teen trend called "souping" to scare parents? Like, teenagers were supposedly getting high on expired soup cans? Classic. It's like today's trend journalism has taken a masterclass from SNL. One video goes viral, chats spark, media jumps in, and before you know it, you're watching the 6 o'clock news, where seniors gasp at how bizarre youngsters have become. And guess who gets the most bewildered mentions? Yep, our girls—because, naturally, they're the ones who must've lost their minds. But here's the kicker: half the time, the original video was a playful jest, meant for an audience who already knew it was bonkers. Take "girl dinner," for instance. It caused an uproar that'd make a volcano jealous, all because it blended womanhood with eating. Olivia Maher, a showrunner's assistant, labeled her medieval-peasant-inspired feast of bread, cheese, pickles, and vino as a "girl dinner." Why? Because she could do whatever the heck she wanted when her boyfriend wasn't around. But oh boy, did that get twisted in the news. Suddenly, this cute oddity turned into an epidemic—like leftover meals were a crisis worthy of international attention. But guess what? The "girl dinner" gig is so last month. I mean, I'm discussing it in August—talk about being fashionably late to the party. But no worries, the internet's churning out new "girl" stuff faster than rabbits procreate. And that's because "girls" sell like hotcakes. Casting our minds back to 2015, we had another "girl" frenzy gripping the bookstores. Remember the time when books like "Gone Girl" and "The Girl on the Train" took over the bestseller lists? Suddenly, every book had to have "girl" slapped somewhere on the cover. But the "girl" craze wasn't just literary—it infiltrated TV shows, movies, and even office lingo. "Girlboss" became a thing, and shows with names like "Good Girls Revolt" and "2 Broke Girls" dominated the airwaves. Seriously, we couldn't escape the "girl" invasion. Now, if you dive into the rabbit hole of analysis, it's not about the age of these "girls" but the themes of their stories. It's all about the transition from girlhood to womanhood, from being someone to being someone's wife or mother, whether that narrative path suits them or not. The protagonist of "The Girl on the Train" exemplifies this—she's like an erased wife, faded into nothingness once the marriage ink dried. This whole "girl" shebang is like a journey back to girlhood, where possibilities are endless. So, these TikTok women aren't merely following trends; they're strategists, plotting their moves like marketing geniuses. They've seen VSCO girls and e-girls break the internet, so they're riding the "girl" wave, because they know it sells. Heck, even this year's blockbuster movie and the record-breaking musical tour revolve around women in their 30s navigating their unique versions of girlhood. People will always be intrigued by girls—partly because they're not quite women, which makes them less of a target for scorn. Girls are like trending snacks, readily consumed, and they've got more avenues than ever. In the end, these online ladies aren't just trend-followers; they're marketing moguls in the making, crafting click-worthy labels that break the internet. We've all turned into mini-publishers, hoping to milk the anticipation of girls blossoming into full-fledged women. And in the process, we might end up a bit insufferable, but hey, at least we're stylishly insufferable. This zany column first hit the world through the Vox Culture newsletter. And hey, if you're up for supporting journalistic clownery like mine, why not throw a few coins Vox's way? They're not just banking on ads and subscriptions—they're all about bringing quality info to the masses. Will you support Vox's explanatory tomfoolery? *Most news outlets juggle cash from ads and# The Confusing Circus of Trendy "Girl" Labels You won't believe what my TikTok algorithm had the audacity to ask me the other day: "What kind of insufferable girl are you?" I mean, seriously, it's like the algorithm's become a judgmental aunt at a family gathering. The options it presented were a wild trio: "femcel," as in a radical feminist who's allegedly pathologically unlovable; "coquette," for those who adore bows and bop to Lana Del Rey; or "blogger," which, of course, means me. The original video might've been ditched into the digital abyss (too much insufferableness, perhaps), but I'm telling you, it's stuck in my head like gum on a shoe, not because it was an intellectual masterpiece but because it introduced me to another internet "girl" to add to my collection. Just what I needed, right? Welcome to the era of "girl" obsessions, where the internet's gone gaga over half-baked microtrends involving the word "girl." People are blabbering about their "girl dinners," which, let's be honest, are just glorified fridge clean-outs. Oh, and those "hot girl walks" we're all taking? Yeah, they're just regular strolls with extra flair. And don't forget the "feral girl summers" that somehow make us all feel like wilderness warriors. The internet has spiraled into a rabbit hole of absurdities, trying to decide whether they're "strawberry girls," "cherry girls," or even "tomato girls." I swear, it's like we're building a fruit salad cult. We're deep in "girlboss" territory, doing complex equations with our fabulously fabulous friends during the sizzling "hot girl summer." We're gulping down pink goo and green powders, hoping to transform into "clean girls" or "That Girls." But when those plans flop, what are we left with? Apparently, the crown of "insufferable girls." Eating my girl dinner, strolling my hot girl walk, binging on sad girl music, reading feral girl books, dancing with my girlianas, sipping with my girlipops—every day, a snail's pace towards... well, womanhood. — @EmmaKupor, July 10, 2023 Seriously, if you read these trend labels in sequence, you might wonder if we've all lost our marbles. And who's surprised? A good chunk of the folks riding this "girl" wave are women, and it's a smidge demeaning to treat grown women like toddlers playing dress-up. Are 30-year-olds really supposed to care about being a "strawberry girl" or a "cherry girl"? Shouldn't we have cracked the code of our own personalities by now? We could argue that boxing women into these labels reeks of gender stereotyping, or that stamping ordinary behavior as "girl-coded" merely widens the gender gap. But let's not kid ourselves—these aren't trends, they're just slick marketing ploys. Remember that Saturday Night Live skit where they cooked up a fake teen trend called "souping" to scare parents? Like, teenagers were supposedly getting high on expired soup cans? Classic. It's like today's trend journalism has taken a masterclass from SNL. One video goes viral, chats spark, media jumps in, and before you know it, you're watching the 6 o'clock news, where seniors gasp at how bizarre youngsters have become. And guess who gets the most bewildered mentions? Yep, our girls—because, naturally, they're the ones who must've lost their minds. But here's the kicker: half the time, the original video was a playful jest, meant for an audience who already knew it was bonkers. Take "girl dinner," for instance. It caused an uproar that'd make a volcano jealous, all because it blended womanhood with eating. Olivia Maher, a showrunner's assistant, labeled her medieval-peasant-inspired feast of bread, cheese, pickles, and vino as a "girl dinner." Why? Because she could do whatever the heck she wanted when her boyfriend wasn't around. But oh boy, did that get twisted in the news. Suddenly, this cute oddity turned into an epidemic—like leftover meals were a crisis worthy of international attention. But guess what? The "girl dinner" gig is so last month. I mean, I'm discussing it in August—talk about being fashionably late to the party. But no worries, the internet's churning out new "girl" stuff faster than rabbits procreate. And that's because "girls" sell like hotcakes. Casting our minds back to 2015, we had another "girl" frenzy gripping the bookstores. Remember the time when books like "Gone Girl" and "The Girl on the Train" took over the bestseller lists? Suddenly, every book had to have "girl" slapped somewhere on the cover. But the "girl" craze wasn't just literary—it infiltrated TV shows, movies, and even office lingo. "Girlboss" became a thing, and shows with names like "Good Girls Revolt" and "2 Broke Girls" dominated the airwaves. Seriously, we couldn't escape the "girl" invasion. Now, if you dive into the rabbit hole of analysis, it's not about the age of these "girls" but the themes of their stories. It's all about the transition from girlhood to womanhood, from being someone to being someone's wife or mother, whether that narrative path suits them or not. The protagonist of "The Girl on the Train" exemplifies this—she's like an erased wife, faded into nothingness once the marriage ink dried. This whole "girl" shebang is like a journey back to girlhood, where possibilities are endless. So, these TikTok women aren't merely following trends; they're strategists, plotting their moves like marketing geniuses. They've seen VSCO girls and e-girls break the internet, so they're riding the "girl" wave, because they know it sells. Heck, even this year's blockbuster movie and the record-breaking musical tour revolve around women in their 30s navigating their unique versions of girlhood. People will always be intrigued by girls—partly because they're not quite women, which makes them less of a target for scorn. Girls are like trending snacks, readily consumed, and they've got more avenues than ever. In the end, these online ladies aren't just trend-followers; they're marketing moguls in the making, crafting click-worthy labels that break the internet. We've all turned into mini-publishers, hoping to milk the anticipation of girls blossoming into full-fledged women. And in the process, we might end up a bit insufferable, but hey, at least we're stylishly insufferable. This zany column first hit the world through the Vox Culture newsletter. And hey, if you're up for supporting journalistic clownery like mine, why not throw a few coins Vox's way? They're not just banking on ads and subscriptions—they're all about bringing quality info to the masses. Will you support Vox's explanatory tomfoolery? *Most news outlets juggle cash from ads and Read the full article