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instarsandcrime · 1 month

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A Lesson Learned

Hi hello! So when I was first writing this I thought 'oh yeah, turns out Lucifer is allergic to pollen and he was in charge of Eden that's funny haha time to make a goofy fluffy thing where Charlie surprises him with flowers from the Garden' and then it absolutely turned into hurt/comfort because apparently that's just how I write! I will be putting a trigger warning below as well because this getssss...heavy as to the reason of why he's allergic? Kinda? It seems to fit with the Hazbin Hotel theme and Lucifer's arc so it shouldn't be a problem, but I'm going to put it down just in case.

(Also a fun little headcanon from @glitterrosesnzz! Hey Rose, see if you can spot it ;) )

TW: Religious trauma/guilt

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It started, unlike many other nights, as one of the most wonderful Lucifer had ever experienced.

Though the Hazbin Hotel was bigger and brighter than ever, the atmosphere at the bar was cozy and warm. Tight-knit, like the lavishly spacious walls never existed– instead a little pigeonhole made for his little girl and the family that followed her to war and back. And even when he stepped onto the top floor's balcony, the laughter he left behind followed on the summer breeze, spilling from the windows like an overflowing teacup. He leaned on its railing, eyelashes fluttering closed to listen to its joined melody.

It was just missing its lead chorister.

"Dad!" Ahh, and there's the lady of the hour! The demon king spun around to soak in his darling daughter, marveling at how much she’d grown. Her long, flaring black ballgown swept gracefully as she crossed the threshold.

"Charlie!” Lucifer beamed, greeting her with arms wide open. A giggle slipped from painted lips, and the princess lurched forward– before remembering herself and the hands behind her back. And all too suddenly Charlie had locked her stilettos in place, thick brows furrowed in concentration as she willed herself to not give her father a large, loving squeeze.

"Nope! Surprise first, hugs later." She stated. Lucifer was almost impressed, considering this was. Well. Charlie. He busied his hands instead with the twirl of his cane. Then, with much pomp and circumstance, dramatically drooped his lanky frame against its ruby red delicious handle.

"I dunno,” He heaved a wilting sigh, “I don’t think your ol’ man’s heart can take this much excitement! First you stop an extermination, then we start getting clients from all around the pride ring. But wow me some more, why don'tcha?"

"W-well I mean, it’s not much, but-- but Vaggie and I were talking, and between building like eighty percent of the hotel, kicking Adam's prick ass--"

"Language." The fallen angel teased.

"Kicking Adam's prick butt." Charlie rolled her eyes, still biting back a smirk.

"There we go."

"And you also, um. Want to restart a new relationship with me. That…really means a lot.” She swallowed, “So I, um, I pulled some strings with Emily, and I know you probably miss Eden..."

"...Oh..." Lucifer breathed. He felt his eyes water at the silky firework of colors that finally came into view. Not burnt, singed, or stained by blood. Not covered in poisoned barbs or snapped the air blindly with rows of teeth.

Flowers. Actual, honest-to-goodness flowers from the Garden itself.

"Charlie, I..." He huffed out a laugh as he stepped closer, taking the bouquet in his arms as delicately as a second child. "Stars above, they're wonderful!"

"'Stars above'?" Charlie stifled a laugh. Millenia-old angel lingo completely ignored as her father excitedly looked them over. Slit pupils dilated, shimmering like jewels. Sharp claws delicately pawing at each one like a slight breeze could rip their petals to shreds.

"Hah! I remember these! Oh man, what were they called? Carnations? Irises? I can't even remember which design I-- snff! Oh, sorry! Gimme a sec, Sweetie." He chuckled wetly, taking out a handkerchief to wipe away budding tears. But even when as dabbed his emotions away, he endlessly detailed each little part of his creations like they were precious cogs in a grand design, a universe he itched to re-explore.

"And roses! I've-- snfff! I've never created something so romantic at the time but…b-but…!"

Lucifer froze. Fat droplets spilled into small streams, shoulders shaking as his breath hitched. And all too suddenly, Charlie’s heart sank to her stomach. Of course, how could she be so stupid! He was an angel for so long! He probably missed Heaven, missed Eden, missed being a seraphim, missed--...mom.

"Oh please, please don't cry." Charlie took a step forward, hand outstretched, "I-I can take it back! Orrr give it to Sir Pentious instead? I’m sure he’d love it considering how much he respects–"

And stumbled ten paces back as a sudden, violent sneeze nearly shattered her eardrums.

"HET'CHMPH'HHhhiew!" Lucifer pitched into his handkerchief, petals and flecks of pollen scattered to the wind. A small bubble of silence filled the air before her father rushed to pop it with another burst of laughter, nearly choking as his breath continued to hitch desperately. "S-sorry Sweetheart, I didn't mean to scehh-scare you! That was- ...th-thah-hah-! HAT’CHIEW! Guhhh...that was louder than...than I…hhh…ex-expectihhhHHHAT'CHHHH! HAT'CHHHH’HEW! Hit'CHHHH'MPHHH! Snfff! Ohh..."

Surfacing again from the billowing fabric, Lucifer met Charlie’s stunned expression with a sheepish grin, a golden flush spreading from his cheeks to the tip of his nose.

"Are you. Are you allergic to…?" Charlie trailed off, worrying her bottom lip.

Oh, no. Oh, no, nononono he can’t disappoint her again!

"Nope! Nuh-uh! Absolutely not! Just a tickle! Nduthig to-- t-to...snff! Ugh, worry aboudt!"

"Dad?"

"Now where was I? Ah, yes! Roses! Ugh, they smbell so good but boyhhh…b-boy do the-thehh-theyyyISHHHH’HIEW! hhhHHH-! …HIT’SHHHH’HIEW! HITSHHIEW! Whew! Excuse mbe! Their thorns hurt...like....l-like...hhhHHH-! Hat’shiew! 'Tshhhiew! 'Tshhh! ‘tshh! li-lihhh-like adythihhh-hih-hih-HITSHHH! Snfff! A-anythi'g. Ugh. Sndff! And don't get mbe started on foxglove! What was I-- hhh! Wh-whuhhh-what was I thihhh-hih-hih-hih! Th-thihhh-thidki'g– IT'SHIEW!"

"Dad."

"Poisonous, Charlie! I made themb– ET’SHHH! poisonous! Co’be ond, they're so...s-so-huh! Hhhol…h-hold onnnNN'TCHHH'hiew! ET'SHHH'HIEW! ISHHH'HIEW!"

"Dad!"

"I'm fide, Ch-Chuhhh-Charlie! I really-- …I-- hih! I-I-- hih-hih! really amb fihhh-hihh-HIT’SCHHH! FIDE! I’mb fide!" Lucifer finally forced out, laughing between desperate hitches, "It's just, y'dnow, the sudlight's a liddle…a liddle stro'g a’d– hhhahh..! HATCHHH’HEW! HET’CHHHH’HIEW!"

"It's nighttime." Charlie crossed her arms.

"W-wait! Did I say sudlight? Hah! Silly– snff! Silly mbe! I mbeant the air's a liddle strong. The cold's affegtig mby ndose a bihh-bit-hit'tshhh! Hit'shhh-tshhh-tsh! H-hehhhHH-! HET'CHIEW!"

"It's summer."

"Did I say cold? I mbeant um-- uhhhh–" A bead of sweat rolled down his neck, and he sniffled thickly, "Y'dnow what? Doesn't mbatter. I'mb ndot allergic to flowers and– snddffff! and I'll prove it."

"Uh-huh." She took a cautious step forward. "By doing wha-- Dad, stop!"

It wasn't much, it was just a small sniff. But Hell’s Bells did it set off something awful. Come on, for fuck’s sake, you can control this! It’s just a sneeze! You’re Lucifer Morningstar! You’re The Devil! You’re all powerful! Immortal! Unkillable! You can mold the mountains with your right hand and oceans with your left! You’re…y-you’re…!

"Hehhhh-heh! Hhhh…relax. Do-d-do you really think I...I-I...snrff!" The ailing demon quickly rubbed at his nostrils with a handkerchief, desperate to satisfy the burning tickle-- silently panicking further as the pollen he'd touched followed suit. "Would go aroud Edehhhn...worki'g...worki'g with a creahhhtion thadt made me sn-sneehh...sneehhHHHIT'SCHH-- starsnotagain-- HIT'SCHH! ISHHH'HIEW! ISHHH! ISHH! 'Tshhh! 'Tsh! ITSCHH! IT'SCHHHH-’TCHH! …ihhHH-!...IT'SHHH’HIU!"

His cane fell to the floor with a sharp thunk, staggering back at the force of the fit. Feeling the flick of embers on the tip of his forked tongue, Lucifer let out another uncontrollable outburst, flames licking the metal railing. Slapping a palm over his mouth at the melted remains.

"O-oh goodness I-- HIT'SHHH’hiew! I'b so sorry Charlie, I-I didn't mbean to- to– IT’SCHHH'hhhiew!" He scrambled to weave the well-soaked cloth with fiberglass, pressing it to his face, a cascade of smoke and hellfire pouring into its fluttering fabric.

"One. Bless you a million times over. Two.” Charlie’s expression changed into something unimpressed. “To answer your earlier question…yes, I absolutely believe you would work through allergies."

"But! I! I-I..." Despite Lucifer’s suffering expression, his daughter swallowed the urge to sigh in relief as the Sin of Pride flashed through all five stages of grief at once before finally landing on acceptance. Watching as the fallen king ever-so-gently set the flowers at his feet and, like molding clay, formed an ornately-carved cloche over the holy gift. Then, silently, leaned against the undamaged edge of the railing. And cringed as he let loose a gurgling noseblow.

"Adgels don'd get allergies. Idt was jusd-- Oh for fugg's sagke hold on." Lucifer Morningstar, former keeper of light, might as well have reclaimed his title at the way his embarrassed blush lit the night sky. He inhaled again, deeper, and reprised his mucky solo. "Ahem! It was, um. A lesson."

"...What?" Charlie’s face fell.

"Yyyep! A moral lesson about pride." Fidgety claws scooped up his cane, tapping the heel on the floorboards. Gripping it tightly to keep them from shaking.

"I was young, y'know? I had a lot of ideas. And boy were they a lot in more ways than one. I loved making flowers. Chrysanthemums. Violets. T-tu...tulihhh...hih!" Lucifer sniffled, feeling the itch rear its head at the thought of them. He quickly dissipated the pollen still stuck to his gloves with a hearty shake and gave an another sharp blow, "Ugh, 'scuse me. You get the idea."

Inhale. Exhale. "I wasn’t exactly doing well in my father's eyes. I was doing too much. I was too much. So They ordered my brother Michael to curse every flower in Eden. They...I mean hey, they weren't wrong. At the end of the day, the stories didn’t label it as an endless paradise for nothing, hah!" One final, hollow, empty chuckle. It was getting harder and harder to keep his smile, he could feel his muscles pulling at the seams– how did Alastor keep the whole Cheshire grin shtick up every goddamn minute of the day? It’s torture!

"I needed to slow down juuuust a smidge. Think about other people for a change and how my creations might cause problems for others without realizing it. So the second I touched down in the garden I created, hoo boy! I couldn't– snff! couldn’t stop sneezing. Ughhh, it so humiliating! A huge damage to my– snfff! my pride. I mean for Heaven’s sake, the two mortal lives I’m supposed to protect got a full view of their guardian angel completely taken over by what? Some yellow dhhh…snfff! dust? I wish I could say I didn't deserve it, but I did." He stared down at his feet, "Sorry. I know you worked hard to get me those flowers– and it’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten, bar none! But I’m afraid I’m aller– …allerhhh….a-allergihhhHHet’shhh! Het’Shhh’hiew! h-hehhhh…” Shit, not again! The handkerchief was well past its due date and he could feel another burst of fire crawl up his throat and the itch kept building and building and–

“Ehhh…hhhHHH-! Hhhh…” Lucifer nearly choked on a gasp– tickle suddenly forced back when a slender finger pressed under his twitching nose. He couldn’t help but sigh in relief, shoulders slumping. Ugh, what a nightmare. Burning blush creeping down his neck, Lucifer was ready to spread his wings and fly back to his hotel room-- his palace workshop-- anywhere but face the disgust that followed. But Charlie needed him to change. He needed to change. So he steeled his resolve, slowly lifted his head and--

"What the FUCK!"

--floundered to grab the railing for balance. The princess of hell and queen of sunshine and rainbows suddenly surrounded herself in a wildfire of rage as she dared to chastise a moral lesson from God themself. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

“...L-language…?” Lucifer squeaked out and nope– that callback absolutely fell flat. But it was all he could offer as Charlie tore her hand away to pace in circles, charred hoofprints trailing behind her. Oh. She’s defending him.

Wait. What?

Oh, wow. That's uh. That is currently a thing. That is a thing that is currently happening now.

"--dare they just. Change their mind?!" Shit! Daughter in distress, snap out of it! Quickly shaking his head free of shell shock, Lucifer pushed himself off the railing, hands outstretched.

"Oh come on Char-Char, you know me. Sin of Pride over here! I needed to be humbled somehow! Hah!" His joking tone only fueled the flames, and before he knew it long, flowing locks were floating, flaring with every unsteady breath.

"Oh yeah, because making you suffer is tooooootally the answer! I'm sure you had plenty of time to bless their forgiving hearts between the seconds you were sneezing your head off!" She snapped.

"It was a different time Stardust, and the way anyone was ever taught--"

"And what, your brothers were just too good to defend you? To even try to see your side of things?"

"I-I was being a bit disobedient–"

"You were LITERALLY doing the ONE THING they asked you to do! Grow a garden!"

“It’s more– snff! it’s more complicated than that.”

“What do you mean ‘more complicated’?! Why are you taking their side? Heaven did something awful to you!”

“I’m not– they were just trying to– I wasn’t–!” He practically pulled his mind through a labyrinth of dusty closets, forcing open memories with triple locks to find a single shred of an excuse– only to find each one empty. “There’s paperwork! Permission! Rules! A-and sure I did my best to follow them, but as always I got carried away– I deserved it–”

“Never say that again! Never, ever say that again! You never deserved what happened to you!”

Lucifer’s words died in his throat.

“You shouldn’t have to hide behind jokes because you feel guilty for having a dream, Okay?!” Charlie threw her hands up in exasperation, a strange concoction of extreme love and kindness at the loudest volume she could muster.

“O-okay???” Lucifer stuttered out.

“Good!”

“Goo-good!”

Satisfied, Charlie exhaled sharply, stomping over to the railing to sit down at its melted edge. Legs dangling above the skyline, lights twinkling like blossoming stars beneath her hooves. The tense silence only lasted a minute– shattering with the clink of glass, a sweet smell following suit. Then slowly, carefully, Lucifer sat beside her. Twisting thin, emerald stems between his claws. He nervously glanced her way. Then down at his lap. Then back to her. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

“Sorry, Dad.” Charlie murmured, “I didn’t mean to yell.”

Her oncoming spiral of apologies was cut short when a lily snaked into her hair, delicately tucked behind her ear. It was a small action, but…

She smiled, leaning into her father’s touch as he began to weave the bouquet into a long, silky braid.

“It would be a waste to ruin such a nice– snff! Nice offering, wouldn’t it?” The King of Hell muttered from behind. Charlie hummed a soft note as she leaned into the touch, claws gently scraping against her scalp as he worked, forked tongue slightly sticking out as he concentrated.

“Thank you. For, um. Sndfff! Ugh, sorry. For being patient with…with mbe– hih! Hit’schh’hew! ‘Tshhew! Nhh…” She could feel a sudden jolt as he twisted his torso to the side.

“Of course.” Charlie pat his hand. She would admonish her new resident for pushing himself, but as the resident rehabilitation expert, she’d let this one time slide. For now.

A brief pause as Lucifer made the finishing touches on her new hairdo– a tapestry of pale thread and an aurora of watercolors. His own little garden. She turned around to see a nose already twitching, cringing when nothing came from a sniffle, too blocked up by 'yellow dust'. Desperate to find some other way to breathe, he opened his mouth, tongue flicking out.

“Guhh…bedder show Vaggie your ndew look before I start ubp agaihhh...! Heh-!...hhhehh...HET'TCHH'hiew...'Tchhew! HET'CHHIEW! Het'SHHHIEW! HETSCHHHIEW! Heh-heh-heh-! hheh...hhhh...hooo...good golly, I-- I'mb so ssssorry–” Lucifer froze, slapping his hands over his mouth at the loud, uncontrollable hiss. Burying his face in the freshly conjured fabric, he prayed the damn thing would swallow him whole.

Frozen when two arms embraced him, adding a tight squeeze for good measure.

“I know this is kinda out of the blue, but I just wanted to say it again. Thanks for protecting me.” A soothing voice met his ears, “I mean it. Seriously. I couldn’t have done all this without you.”

Handkerchief still pressed to his face, he lifted his head, trying– and failing– to hide a sly grin. “You know, this whole allergy thigg wasn'd all bad. Whed your mom foudd out thadt Mbichael cursed every flower I’d mbade, she called for his guidance.”

“Oh, really? What’d she tell him?” Charlie raised a brow.

“Let’s see, I think it went sombethi'g like this.” Lucifer set the stage, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. “Saint Mbichael floated down frub the heavens, holy light shining above. He landed softly and delicately, armbs spread. He said the usual line, you know the one. 'Oh Lilith, Child of The Garden, blah blah blah.” He took a deep breath. “She looked himb in the eye. Grabbed his collar. And– snfff! And then punched himb right in the face. He’d graced every adgel’s presence with a bruised ndose for a week. She called it a mboral lesson in tolerance.”

And then resisted the urge to let out a victorious whoop as finally, finally, Charlie began to laugh.

#ha//zb//in//ho//tel//#snz #snz fic #lu/ci/fer #char/lie

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frannyzooey · 9 months

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Chapter 13 was unbelievably beautiful. Every chapter I read, I think it can’t get more precious than this and then you prove me wrong every time! Their love is so primal and raw. It’s so beautiful to read. You write motherhood/fatherhood in such a true, believable way. I love this story so much. I love you for writing it. Thank you for giving us this slice of heaven… from the bottom of my heart.

I can't even with this ask 🥺

"Primal and raw" is the best compliment ever, seriously. This concept of them needing each other at such a base level is everything, and the idea that they have always needed each other that way but didn't know it? GIMME GIMME

Writing parenthood in a true, believable way means everything to me. There is a lot of my own experience in this story, which helps to get into the state of mind, but Joel as a parent is my weak spot. This man's TRAUMA (I'm looking at you @mrsquill for always doing such delicious deep dives on it) and exploring it as a means to heal him has always been the goal for this story, and to know that you are enjoying it means the world to me.

I can't tell you how much I appreciate you ❤

Thank you so much for sending this in and for reading!

#short days ask

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yyako · 1 year

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Just thinkin about my two favorite character archetypes: "The happy, seemingly oblivious character whose real power is having a high emotional intelligence and ability to cross boundaries and make powerful friends" and "The naturally gifted/talented character who's mean but only because they have deep trauma they must heal to break through their limits"

These archetypes are like chocolate and peanut butter. Both are delicious individually, but when Archetype A helps Archetype B? Beautiful. Outstanding. Gimme all of it

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kashacreates · 2 years

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time for some oc gushing!

lately i've been thinking about my boy ash because he purposefully makes himself look one-dimensional and it's just so interesting to write. since he's so used to sanitizing his life and thoughts and feelings, he has no idea how to deal with them, so they're deeply repressed, like, when he feels a negative emotion he genuinely doesn't know how he's supposed to respond to it or what to do with himself. he believes it's "god's will" for him to put others first, so his life pretty much revolves around doing that, but it makes him feel like he's not worth much and he doesn't know who he is when he's by himself ): worst part is that he's SO stubborn about asking for help even though he clearly needs it,,, it's just hard for him because he's not used to his needs being acknowledged at all, so when people ask, he just assumes he doesn't need anything. that and the fact he's adamant about not being a burden.

also ash's sister is literally 16-17 and he still pretty much infantilizes her + is way too over-protective because of how much he's blinded by childhood trauma,,, like, he lives every day like he's still 11 and being forced to provide for his 5 year old sister, so that obviously causes a lot of conflict between them. his sister is fiercely independent and hates people underestimating her like that.

but yeah, i really took his character and went "this bad boy can fit so much angst in it"

Gimme Your Blorbs!: Open

Absolutely valid! Angst is such a good spice for character growth and there's lots of plot seeds to work with for Ash.

I tend to ask a lot of questions, if you're new. Feel free to answer them in an ask if you're more comfortable that way. (No pressure as well. It's all chill here.)

Assuming the age difference in the example (11-5=6), it sounds like he's a young adult/college age? Is he still living with his parents and sister? From the trauma, it sounds like their parents weren't the greatest. Or are they no longer around?

Also, that is some delicious internal conflict. It feels like if he were to try to stop being one-dimensional on purpose, he might find it'll stick around.

#Hi hello!#ask game #blorbo blursday #I'm on the west coast so there are a few more hours of blursday for me lol

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disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

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The Rules of Engagement (4/5)

part of the The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, general trauma.

a/n: unbeta’d. Yeah, I know - I can’t count. This is gonna be five chapters.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Murphy nearly bowls you over on his way down stairs, pulling up short when he sees you.

“Shit!”

You glance down at yourself. Your clothes are rumpled and covered in ash and bile. You don’t even want to know what your face looks like. There’s rubble in your hair.

Murphy is still staring open-mouthed.

“The pharmacy below my apartment got bombed,” you explain hollowly. “I’m fine, I just need a shower.”

“You look like you need a hospital,” Murphy counters, eyeballing you with something akin to worry. “Fucking Christ, Ears, if Javi -”

You snap your eyes up at the mention of Javi. “Have you heard anything?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Steve Murphy cracks a grin at you. “On his way home now.” He looks as relieved as you feel. “We got him.”

You manage to smirk back. “Good.”

“Congratulations, by the way. This one’s on you as much as anybody.”

“Thanks.” You sag against the side rail, trying to be subtle about it. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, your legs are shaking, and you think it’s only a matter of time before you fall over.

Murphy notices, because he reaches for your shoulder to steady you. “I really think-”

“No.” You cut him off forcefully, glaring at him with all the energy you have left. “No, Steve. I’m tired, that’s all.”

He sighs. Narrows his eyes. Frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

What?

Murphy gesturers to your temple with a finger that you have to stop yourself from flinching away from. “You’re bleeding, Ears,” he repeats, as if he’s expending a great amount of patience by pointing it out to you.

You reach up, wincing as you notice for the first time that your head hurts. When you draw your fingers back, they are coated in blood.

Murphy moves closer to get a better look.

“It’s just a scratch, Murph,” you tell him wearily. As far as you can tell, that’s true. There’s no gaping hole or giant gash, just a stinging little cut right at your hairline. “You know how head wounds are.”

He’s still glaring suspiciously at you, and you let him, meeting his gaze in silent challenge.

Eventually he sighs. “Okay, your funeral, I guess. Gimme a minute.”

Before you can retort, he ducks back inside, leaving you standing awkwardly on the front step. The walls are thin - you can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. He’s back seconds later, key in one hand, a slip of paper in the other.

He hands you the paper first. “This is my pager number. Javi’ll be back soon, but I want you to contact me if anything crazy happens.” He motions to your head with his thumb.

“Okay,” you promise.

“And here’s this.” He presses the key into your hand.

You look up at him wide-eyed. “Murphy, you can’t just give me Peña’s key.”

“What, you think it would be any different if I stepped across the landing and did the honors for you? I’m already late.” He runs a hand through his hair with a huff. “Besides, he’d want you to have it.”

Somehow, you seriously doubt that.

Murphy fixes you with a stare. “Trust me.”

“Hardly,” you mutter, taking the key from his hand anyway. You hold it up for emphasis. “But you’re taking the fall for this one, alright?”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “I think I can live with that. Stay safe, Ears, and page me if you need anything.”

♠

You resist the urge to flop down on Javi’s sofa and sleep for a thousand years, instead making your way to the shower. Peeling away your dusty clothes feels so incredibly good. So does the hot water. You take your time, exploring the lingering aches and pains in your body as you scrub them with Javi’s little sliver of Irish Spring. Aside from a few bruises and that one little slice on your temple that won’t quit oozing, you’re not injured anywhere. You think you might be a little sore from being thrown backward tomorrow, and your lungs still feel funny and raw from having the air knocked from them, but otherwise, the bombing of your apartment is more inconvenient than anything.

You try very, very hard not to think about Emilio.

You step out of the shower only when the water runs tepid, the cold jarring you awake. Javi only has two towels, it seems - one left out to dry on the towel rack, the other crumpled in the corner with a pair of boxers. Nice. You opt for the one that’s on the rack, wiping yourself down then wrapping up your dripping hair.

There’s something deliciously deviant about sneaking naked through Javier Peña’s apartment when he’s not home. You shake away your guilt, trying hard not to be too weirded out or too turned on as you rifle through his dresser drawers. You’ve got to wear something.

Eventually, you come away with the green t-shirt and the only pair of sweats the man owns. You eye yourself in the mirror, considering. Javi’s clothes are ridiculous on you - you have to roll the sweats three times at the waist just to keep from tripping - but hell, at least you aren’t naked. Looks like that cut finally stopped bleeding, too.

Carefully, you pull your hair into a sloppy braid and gather your dirty clothes, doing a cursory sweep of the apartment to see if Javi has anything else that needs washing. Other than the little pile in the bathroom, you find a t-shirt and a pair of mis-matched socks in the corner by the nightstand. Not bad for a single guy living alone, you decide.

You make the trip downstairs to the communal laundry room quickly, noting the time on the kitchen clock when you return. You don’t feel like waiting beside the machine today. Flopping on the sofa has lost it’s appeal - you’re bone weary, but every time you close your eyes, you see fireballs and charred bodies.

Sleep is not on the agenda.

Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time. 9:42. You put the water on, then shuffle downstairs to switch the laundry to the dryer. 40 more minutes, and then you can get out of here.

And then what?

You examine your options and find that the list is short. You aren’t going to stay here any longer than necessary - you’ve intruded on Javi’s privacy enough. Your only friend in Colombia is Ana, and that’s off the table for obvious reasons. Murphy isn’t at home, and Connie had left for the States just weeks after you’d arrived. Back to work, then.

You decide that’s best anyway. Somebody fucking bombed your apartment. Well, the mark was probably Emilio’s drug store, but still. Bombings don’t happen in Bogotá - that’s a Medellín thing. Especially a civilian target.

The rush of anger that consumes you is staggering. Who did this, and why? Bombing a business is a very Pablo Escobar thing to do, but a small pharmacy? In Bogotá?

Ana and her father are good people. You know deep in your bones that they aren’t involved in the drug trade. You also have major doubts that this was an accident. So, what the fuck?

The injustice of it all makes you feel small and cold and helpless.

You’re missing something big.

Javi doesn’t have a television in his apartment. Even if you did have access the news, the information that you’re seeking is hardly going to be broadcast on live television, and certainly not so soon.

Work really is the best option, then. Between the bombing and Verdugo’s arrest, the sicarios must be on red alert. Maybe you can pick up on some chatter.

Besides, you probably need to let Stechner know about your situation as soon as possible.

You glance at the clock. 10:07.

Ugh. You rise up on your tiptoes, bouncing in frustration. Caffeine and adrenaline have made you jittery. There’s something really cringe-worthy, too, about being alone in Javi’s apartment without his knowledge, especially given the way things ended between you.

The memory chafes, and you shake your head hard enough that it throbs.

Goddamn this day.

A shrill beeping jerks you from your thoughts, and you barely manage to stifle a shriek. Your pager! You’d forgotten all about it. Your stomach swoops as you pick it up.

The number that flits across the screen belongs to Javi.

You take a breath. Weird. Aside from that one brief conversation yesterday, you haven’t spoken to him in weeks. It probably has something to do with Verdugo, you decide. Maybe he wants to inform you personally. That would be nice of him. After all, this was a pretty big arrest for you, too.

You locate the phone in the kitchen, dialing the number with trembling fingers. Damned coffee.

“Peña.” His voice is terse, clipped.

“Got your page,” you say warily. He sounds like he’s in a mood. “Is there -”

“Where are you?” he demands, cutting you off harshly.

You blink, startled. Forget ‘a mood,’ Javi sounds fucking livid. You’d assumed he’d be pretty relaxed, considering. “Umm, I’m actually at your place,” you speak slowly to hide the shakiness of your voice. Fuck, of all the times to get emotional. “Listen, my apartment was bombed. I just needed -”

You’re interrupted again by a sharp sigh. “Stay there,” Javi grinds out, and then there’s nothing but dial tone.

Slowly, you place the phone back in its cradle, processing the conversation.

What. The. Fuck.

Bits of plastic clatter to the floor as the pager smashes into the refrigerator - you’re hardly even aware of throwing it. You sink to the kitchen floor, cradling your head in your hands and doing your damnedest to just breathe.

It’s not fucking fair. He was the one who stormed out slamming doors. You haven’t pressed him, haven’t been a nuisance. Well, aside from basically breaking into his apartment and borrowing his shower.

But fucking hell, somebody - probably Pablo Escobar - just bombed your fucking apartment. You’re living in a foreign country and you don’t even speak the fucking language. There’s nowhere for you to go, and your clothes were a mess, and goddamn, you are just tired.

What were you supposed to do?

Footsteps thunder up the stairs. God, that was quick. You manage to leap to your feet just as the front door slams open with a bang.

Javi stops dead when he sees you, and your tirade dies in your throat.

“Hey.” It’s awkward, but it’s all you can manage.

He’s just staring at you, standing stalk still in the open doorway. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. His expression is tight, carefully closed off. One fist is clenched at his side, the other still gripping the doorknob.

“Murphy let me in,” you babble. You knew he was on his way, but still, his sudden appearance startled you. “My place, I mean, the drugstore -”

“I know.” He’s toneless, expressionless, frozen except for his eyes. They rove over your face and body, and you’re reminded suddenly of watching him read reports - quick, efficient, and exacting, like he’s taking in every detail in an instant.

Fuck. Heat rushes you as you remember that you’re still wearing his clothes. “Okay,” you breathe shakily, hardly aware of speaking aloud. This is getting weird, and you really don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with Javier Peña’s shit today.

Your laundry is probably dry anyway.

“Where are you going?” Javi demands, resting a hand on your shoulder as you attempt to push past him.

That does it. “To get the laundry!” you bite back, twisting away from his touch with a lot more drama than is really necessary. “My clothes are dry!”

He pulls away as if burned, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

You stand there like that for a long moment, just assessing each other. You’re glaring up at him warily, sizing him up, while he watches you with an expression that you don’t recognize.

“I’ll go,” he says softly. There’s something quiet, almost regretful in his tone, and it shatters your defenses. You bit your lip and nod shakily, and then he’s gone, descending down the stairs without another word.

Jesus.

You exhale another shaking breath - everything you do seems shaky, today - and pour another cup of coffee.

♠

You feel like you’ve got a little more control of yourself once you’re back in your own clothes. Javi is lighting a cigarette at the kitchen table when you exit the bathroom, a fresh butt still hot in the ashtray next to him.

“Rough night?” you ask, dropping his half-folded t-shirt and sweats onto the counter.

He huffs sarcastically.

You sigh. Your patience is wearing very, very thin, but you decide to try one more time, just for the hell of it. “Congratulations, by the way. Murphy told me about Verdugo.”

He blinks up at you, like you’ve pulled him from deep thought. “Yeah,” he says slowly, still staring at you with an intensity that’s starting to really freak you out. He pulls hard at the cigarette, and the moment breaks. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

You nod, suddenly tired.

He notices. “Ears?”

“I need to go back in,” you cut him off before he can ask whatever he was going to ask.

He frowns. “Didn’t you just leave this morning?”

Frazzled as you are, it doesn’t occur to you to ask how he knows that. “Yeah, Peña, I did,” you snap. “But then some fucker bombed my apartment, and I’ve got a nasty feeling that it has something to do with Pablo Escobar. I can’t go home, and I can’t get any sleep, so I might as well make myself useful and see if there’s anything worth listening to today.”

His gaze had drifted during your speech. He’s resting his jaw on his his palm, staring off into the middle distance.

Ugh.

“So, will you drive me, Peña, or am I calling a cab?”

“Sorry,” he says softly, breaking himself out of whatever stupor he’d been in. He stands and extends a hand like he might like to reach for you before deciding against it and grabbing his gun instead. “Of course I’ll drive you, if you feel like going in.” He catches your eye as he tucks the gun into his belt, serious now. “I really am sorry about your home, Ears.”

God. All Javier Peña has to do is throw you a tiny bone, and you fucking melt. The relief you feel is palpable. “Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a long second.

You hear him rustling around with keys. “Let’s go, then.”

♠

The car ride to headquarters is silent. Javi smokes three more cigarettes, tossing the butts out the open window before you even hit the parking lot, one after the other. You wonder what the fuck is going on with him.

He makes a point to let you out of the passenger side door, a little quirk that had been hit or miss before, depending on his mood. You walk together up the embassy steps, him hanging close to your shoulder but not quite touching you, and you wonder if this is his strange way of apologizing for the weirdness before.

You’re halfway to Stechner’s office when you realize that Javi is still following you. You arch a curious brow in his direction. He pointedly ignores it.

Okay, seriously. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The question comes out a lot harsher than you intend, but hell, it’s been a terrible day.

He glances down at you, almost apologetic. “It can wait a minute.”

“Ears!”

Oh, fuck. Steve Murphy is running up the hallway, gaze zeroed in on you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, just whirls on Javi. “Javi, what the fuck is she doing here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to keep from screaming. “I’m trying to go do my job, Murphy, if the fucking DEA will let me.” Thankfully, your voice comes out pretty level.

Javi’s looking at Murphy with a narrowed gaze, head cocked, hands on hips. “What do you mean, Murphy?” he asks in a low voice.

Murphy throws his hands up in consternation. “I mean she should be in bed, or at a fucking hospital. You should have seen her this morning, Javi. Looked like she’d come straight from a war zone!”

Javi whips around to stare wide-eyed at you. “Wait. You didn’t say…” All of the color is draining from his face. “You were there?”

Something about the breathlessness the words, like they’d been punched out of him, sends little shocks of electricity zinging across your skin. “I’m fine,” you manage. As protests go, it’s pretty weak.

“God, Ears, you’re still bleeding.” Goddamn Steve Murphy and his fucking preoccupation with your blood. “Now get out of here, please, before I call you an ambulance. Jesus.”

Javi’s face is a storm cloud of emotions as the pieces continue to click into place. “Ears,” he growls, more horrified than angry. He grips you carefully by the shoulders, looking you over again. This time, he brings his fingers gently to your temple. They come away bloody.

He sucks a sharp breath, glancing up at Murphy. “You’ll handle Verdugo?”

Murphy’s lips are pressed into a fine line. “Absolutely, Javi. Get her out of here.”

♠

He escorts you from the building with a hand pressed firmly against the small of your back. It would be sweet, if not for the blistering pace and the stony expression that’s frozen on his face. People take notice, leaping out of your way, craning their necks to watch as you storm by. By the time you reach the doors, your cheeks are flaming.

“Agent Peña!”

Oh shit. You hadn’t even noticed Martinez and his entourage milling around the entrance.

“Yeah?” Javi bites out.

Martinez raises a brow at the scene the two of you make - you, bleeding and shamefaced, Javi damned near parading you into the parking lot with all the subtly of a thunderclap.

God, there’s no way this ends well for either of you.

“Verdugo is in interrogation room three,” Martinzes says, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Javi doesn’t even slow. “Stick Murphy on it,” he snaps over his shoulder. “I’m busy.”

Nobody dares argue with him.

♠

Instead of getting into the car, Javi leans heavily against the door.

You pause, opening your mouth to question him, but he reaches for your jaw before you can speak, carefully tilting your face up into the sunlight.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is soft, but he’s looking at you in undisguised concern, eyes roving over you with an intensity that tempts you to drop your gaze.

You shiver. You can’t help it - you’re exhausted and emotional, and things with Javi have been so weird for so long, and now he’s staring at you, sharp and worried, running his thumbs across your scalp to gently assess for injuries.

No, you are not okay.

He notices the little tremor that darts through your body and rests one hand on your shoulder, leaning in to look you straight in the eye. “How far were you from the explosion?”

“Across the street,” you tell him, breathless for all of the wrong reasons. It’s only half-way true, you’d been crossing the street when the bomb had gone off, far closer to the blast zone than you’re leading him to believe. But he’s so close, cupping your cheeks in his hands, leaning forward to shield you from the traffic-side of the parking spot with his body as he continues to draw his fingers across your skin, gently assessing for more damage.

“It just knocked me off my feet,” you continue. Your throat is suddenly so dry. “Startled me, more than anything.”

Javi reaches with one finger to expose the wound on your temple. It’s still oozing.

“And this?” he asks, pinning you with another piercing stare.

You reach up, catching his hand as his fingers begin to drift down your cheek. He twitches reflexively. “Just a little scratch,” you promise him. “Falling glass, or shrapnel, I guess. Something grazed me. I never hit my head.”

This is not a lie. You never blacked out; you’re not hurt.

He blusters a sigh, scrubbing his face with his palm for a brief second. “I should really take you to the hospital.” His jaw tightens as he speaks.

“I just said I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine.” You indicate the wound on your temple. “This is nothing. You know how head wounds like to bleed.” You look up at him, projecting as much wide-eyed, awake, vibrant woman as you possibly can after walking away from a fucking bomb, and squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Please, Peña. I just want to go -”

Home, you almost say.

You stop yourself just in time. There is no home, not anymore. And you won’t make the mistake of referencing Peña’s place as anything other than ‘Peña’s place.’ That would be supremely stupid, given all of the recent drama.

“To bed,” you manage instead. “I’m just tired.”

And god, that is the truth.

If Javi notices your faux pax, he doesn’t mention it. He’s hardly taken his eyes off you. He’s near enough that you can feel the heat of his skin, one hand still twined in yours.

It’s all you can do to avoid resting your head on his chest.

“Okay,” he mutters begrudgingly, and then shakes his head like he hadn’t meant to agree. “I’ll take you home.”

You smile wanly at him. “Thanks.”

♠

author’s notes/confessions

I know you still have questions. I promise you, I will answer them.

Steve Murphy is a good bro.

Y’all hit me up if you want a little Javi one-shot after this next chapter. I wrote it for my own reference, but it might be a fun read, if you’re wondering what’s happening inside his head right now.

@tiffdawg, look what you made me do. ;)

#Javier Peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #narcos #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña imagine #javi x you #javi x reader #reader insert #angst #hurt/comfort #slowburn #friends to lovers #the rules of engagement #better love #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction

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hotdamnhunnam · 4 years

Text

Will Miller: Sex in Publix

A/N: FINALLY writing for Will Fucking “Ironhead” Miller from Triple Frontier!!! So excited, my dears!! Here’s some smut about you helping Will recover from his violent cereal aisle incident at Publix... which results in you two having shameless public sex.

Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, reference to traumatic experience, sex in public (obvs) Inspiration: WILL’S SPEECH from the opening scene of the movie. Serious big dick energy 🥵

Word Count: ~2.5k

** THE SPEECH **

Quoted from Triple Frontier’s opening scene

Parts that are referenced in this fic are in bold below. (You seriously need to watch it, though...)

About five years ago, when I was on leave... I found myself standing in the middle of the cereal aisle at the Publix... with my arm around some guy's throat. I was squeezing so hard he pissed himself. My fiancée at the time had to climb on my back just so I didn’t actually kill the guy. Do you know why I was doing this? Because he hadn’t moved his cart when I asked. I was the best of the best, able to shut down, control, manipulate... all basic human instincts towards one goal: the completion of my mission. But the effects of committing extreme violence on other human beings are biological and physiological. That’s the price of being a warrior.

Fic begins after ‘Keep reading’ ...

***************

A/N: Why yes, I just inserted the same gif again, so that you have the image right above, for purposes of the description of this mouthwatering motherfucker doing his GODDAMN CHEWING GUM LOWER LIP TONGUE THING in the third paragraph 😛

“We shouldn’t even be here...”

“Will, you say that every time,” you remind your fiancé as he strolls your cart through the aisles at Publix, slowly approaching Aisle 6. You can feel him tense up now as you’re drawing near. “It’s like I told you, babe—the best way to work through your shit is to come and revisit the scene of the crime.”

“Crime?” he rolls his tongue around the piece of gum he’s chewing, lets it slide along the inside of his full pink lower lip. He knows just what he’s doing: making it bulge in a way that looks fucking delicious. That action in itself is a crime calling for arrest. “You know the guy didn’t press charges.”

“That’s because you threatened to kill him if he did. Besides, the poor bastard had just pissed all over the floor; I’m pretty sure he wasn’t going wild to include that kind of detail if he filed a police report.”

He shrugs that off with a half-laugh. Tries to ignore how he had choked a total stranger with such brutal force... simply because he hadn’t moved his cart when Will had asked. “The fact stands that I’m criminally innocent.”

“Of course. The perfect model citizen,” you can’t help but indulge him in a playful little compliment. “With model good looks, too.”

Will rolls his eyes, those eyes you constantly effuse are the most gorgeous shade of blue. He never seems to think it’s true. “Butter me up, why don’t you.”

“Like I always do.”

He cracks a smile, which quickly vanishes as you reach Aisle 6. “Speaking of which, didn’t we just finish the butter in the fridge? I’ll go and grab some; maybe you can get the cereal, then meet me in the dairy aisle...”

“Nice try, big guy—not happening. Come on,” you urge, taking a soft yet firm hold of his muscular upper arm. “What, are you scared of Cap’n Crunch or something? Man up, Captain. Don’t be a pussy ass bitch.”

“Cap’n Crunch is creepy as shit. Freaked me out as a kid,” he says with an exaggerated cringe. “But seriously, babe—you know that going back there makes me... twitch.”

“And I’ll be there to hold your hand, and talk you through it, like I always am,” you reassure him. “Will, it’s gotten better every time we visit. We’ve made real progress; it’s a process, and to be honest, I think it’s almost finished.”

He bites that luscious lip of his. “What if it isn’t.”

“Then we’ll keep trying till it is, okay? You have to trust me. Either way, we’ll hurry home, soon as we’re done... so you can fuck me.”

His eyes light up at that, just as you knew they would, and he pushes the cart straight ahead. Not afraid to admit he’s been played. “Damn does my girl know how to control and manipulate...”

“I learned from the best of the best, as they say. My big strong ironhead fiancé.”

As it turns out today, the sex will happen long before you leave the store. Neither of you will be able to wait.

***************

“So. How you feeling?” you ask him, standing by his side in the spot where it happened. As he stands still and stares, you reach up to comb your fingers through the soft golden spikes of his hair, hoping that the tender loving touch will help his healing.

Will chews his gum a little harder, with a firm clench of his jaw. Blue eyes a little darker. And good God—you shouldn’t be having these thoughts, but fuck, the smoldering look on his face right now is just about the hottest thing you ever saw...

You can see the scenes replay inside his mind. Not just the incident itself, choking a random guy in Publix half to death, squeezing so hard the bastard lost his breath and pissed himself—but more importantly, the underlying cause. Years of trauma, molding Will into a man that he himself feared and despised. So many years spent searching for the kind of peace he always craved but thought he’d never find.

He tells you often how he found it in your arms; though you’re a sucker for his charms, you always brush the line aside. That shit’s just corny. And besides, he only says it when he’s horny... which is all the fucking time.

One of the many things that you two have in common. Ever since Will Miller claimed you as his woman, the two of you have been getting it on so fucking often that it’s probably a crime.

You try to stop your mind from wandering in that direction. Will needs to process heavy shit right now and you’re supposed to help him. Shouldn’t get distracted by your own lady erection, as you silently admire him in all his alpha male perfection... mind burning with questions—like, but how the hell can it even be possible to be so fucking beautiful...?

His hands aren’t twitching in the way that often happens when he’s here, but still, he’s awfully tense and quieter than usual. Maybe it’s time to head out of the cereal aisle; return some other time, after a little while. You hold him close to whisper in his ear, stroking his arm with a warmhearted smile. “Listen, babe—if you don’t want to talk... then let’s go home and crack open some beer, or a bottle of wine... I’ll suck your cock, and everything will be just fine. I’m proud of you for coming here today. Now let’s get out of here so you can come someplace better, okay?”

Now at that, Will at last has a few words to say. He snaps out of his self-hating haze and attacks you just with the sheer power of his deep blue gaze. “Mmm, you mean like deep inside my filthy little whore of a fiancée?”

You feign offense, reacting with a gasp, dealing his upper arm a playful little slap. “Captain Miller! What gives you the right to talk to me like that—in public, no less? Show some damn respect.”

He answers with a flirty, dirty laugh. “Respect my ass.”

“I do, and you know that. It’s perfect,” you remind him as you reach around to grab it through his pants, loving the way the sculpted muscle tenses up beneath your hands. “And I respect it even better when it’s naked, so let’s get—”

“Gimme a minute,” he interrupts you with a kiss on the top of your head. “You know, before you started talking all that frisky business... I was just about to tell you that I think we’re finally finished. Babe, you did it.”

You pause, dropping your jaw—does he mean what you think he does? Now that the tone is back to serious, you free his fine ass from the grasp of your horny claws. “...did it?”

Will smiles and nods. “I know my stubborn ass kept resisting these visits. But you were right, babe. Like always. I think I’ve finally gotten past this shit. I mean—not all my shit; that’s a serious beast. But the whole Publix incident, at least. I just... today I finally felt released. At peace with it.”

There are no words to capture how giddy you feel. You wrap your arms around his neck with an excited squeal, heartbeat happily racing. “Babe, that’s amazing! We did it. I may be the one with all the brilliant ideas, but you were smart enough to listen.”

He lets out a soft giggle, hugging you so hard it tickles. “I still say you get all the credit. Manipulating me with all those promises of sex the way you did. Straight up forcing me into submission.”

“Oh, don’t put it that way. Now let’s not forget who’s the dom in the bedroom. Promise you’ll always play Captain, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles. “Whatever you say.”

The one thing on your mind as you snuggle into his embrace is this man smells like actual heaven... hot damn. You pull back from the hug, desperate to get home and get fucked. But there’s still one more thing to get out of the way.

You make some effort to compose yourself before what’s coming next. “Oh, and before we go—there’s something else I wanted you to know. Now that your issue’s been addressed... well, I also have something to confess.”

After those words, you pause for longer than you should. Which isn’t good.

“Go on?” Will holds your hand and gives you an encouraging, heartwarming nod.

Ugh, he’s so cute when he’s all soft and full of love. Despite being so big and tough. All at once a sugar baby muffin and a savage fucking sex god.

You clear your throat, collecting your slightly embarrassing thoughts. “So, when the whole... incident happened, in the moments just before I climbed onto your back, to pull you off of that poor man, I was just—watching you attack... and... well, at first I didn’t even know how to react, because... uhhh...”

Those blue eyes of his blink, and you can barely even think. Apparently you have a goddamn golden eyelash kink?

Will tries to urge you to continue; though it’s clear he’s quite sincere, he’s also more than just a little bit amused. He always loves to see you bumbling like a fool and acting totally uncool. He says it’s super cute. “Because what?”

You re-clear your throat, though it’s all clear already. Try to stay somewhat calm and steady. Keep your hormones in control. You are in public after all; people can see you even if they’re out of earshot. “I don’t know, it’s just—watching you do that was... I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was fucked up, and yes I knew it had to stop—but it was also... you know... super fucking hot?”

He blinks again, brows arching up a bit. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Y/N, I... I was out of my damn mind. Completely out of line. Like, deadly dangerous.”

“Oh, you think I didn’t notice?”

“No, I know you did...”

Fucking hell. You pull your hand from his and turn toward the shelves, grabbing a random box of cereal to occupy yourself. “Now you’re kink-shaming me. Never done that before, but now the truth comes out that I’m a sick and twisted whore—”

“What? Y/N, come on,” he groans, wrapping his arms around you from behind, the kind of big bear hug that always feels like home. “You know that isn’t how I meant it...”

“No, forget it. Just forget I ever said it.”

“Can’t really do that, to be honest. Babe, I’m into all your kinks, I promise. I just need a sec to process this.”

“Seriously—Will, this whole cereal aisle shouldn’t be about me. Even just mentioning it like I did was selfish. So forget it.”

“I’m not gonna just...”

“Hey, I have an idea,” you interrupt, eager to change the subject, as you now notice that you’d just happened to pick a box of Cap’n Crunch. With the creepy cartoon captain’s face emblazoned on the front. “What if you need a final outlet? Just to let off any steam that might be lingering, to make sure that you’ve really gotten over the whole cereal aisle incident?”

Will purrs as he leans closer into your shoulder. You stupidly assume he’s also looking at the cereal box you’re holding, but he isn’t. “Hmmm, you thinking what I’m thinking...?”

As it happens, you’re totally oblivious to what he just implied, since you’re still trying to recover from embarrassment. You step off to the side, pulling away from his embrace so that you’re standing face to face. And hold the box in front of you like it’s a martial arts board made for him to break. “Here, if you need something to punch... why don’t you let it out on Cap’n Crunch.”

He blinks, again, apparently a little stunned. You’re too oblivious to even notice that he has a hard on.

You gesture toward the crunchy cap’n. “Go on. Clock him one.”

Will shifts uncomfortably in an attempt to hide the stiffness of his cock. “Punch a cereal box? Babe, this is fucking ridiculous...”

“This creepy bastard haunted you throughout your childhood,” you remind him. “Come on, do it, Will. Show him who’s captain. You know it’ll feel good.”

He tosses a quick glance behind him to make sure that no one’s around to witness. “Can’t believe I’m gonna do this, but if you insist...”

Balling his right hand up into a fist, he fucking launches it at the cartoon son of a bitch. You know he didn’t go full force—the blow would’ve thrust you and Cap’n both across the room, of course—but he went hard enough to cause the cardboard box serious damage.

Will looks down at the damage he caused to his childhood nemesis, more pleased with it than he’d like to admit. “Well, shit.”

You flash him a triumphant grin, glad for the win. “Felt great, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did,” he laughs at himself with a shake of his head. “But the box is all busted.”

“Well, we are model citizens, so we’re obviously going to take responsibility and pay for this,” you tell him. “And William—don’t even think about bitching that Cap’n Crunch isn’t a worthwhile purchase. The catharsis that he just provided was worth it.”

Your fiancé is fully in agreement with that sentiment. “Sounds perfect.”

Moving toward your shopping cart, you pause before throwing the box in, stopping to salute the captain with one hand over your heart. “We thank you, Cap’n, for your service.”

Will lets out one of his loud, loving laughs and hugs you from the back again. “My God, you’re such a fucking dork...”

You shrug, melting into the hug. “Well, my dorky ass just singlehandedly took care of your entire healing process. So don’t knock it if it worked.”

“Oh, I wasn’t gonna knock it,” Will replies, suddenly spinning you around with your back up against the shelves, so you can see and feel the feral fire in his eyes. You practically just wet yourself. Even more so upon the words he utters next. “I was just thinking that I really wanna fuck it.”

Holy hell. This man is living breathing sex. Your words come out all jumbled up and shit. “What—how... you mean right now? In public?”

Will grinds his hips into your crotch so you can finally feel the stiffness of his dick. God, it’s so big. His every word and action never fail to make your pussy twitch. “Hmm, what is that I’m hearing... judgment? Are you kink-shaming me, bitch?”

Hot damn, you love how playfully sadistic your fiancé is. “No, I wouldn’t fucking dream of it. I love it,” you respond, succumbing to the force of his cock and the heat of your cunt. For good measure before you both give yourselves over to such guilty pleasure, to everything both of you want, you glance nervously up and down Aisle 6.

All is clear at the moment. And if that unexpectedly changes... you know there’s a risk, the constant threat of danger of onlooking strangers... well, fuck it. You and Will won’t let that stop you from indulging in some shameless sex in Publix.

***************

... Continued in Part 2!

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bunnyywritings · 4 years

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Hey!! May I request headcanons for azula and mai (separate) with a female s/o who has a death note that’s basically Ryuk’s death note pwease! Basically I thought that if the death note was a thing in atla it would of been a relic from the spirit world and it would kill anybody except for the avatar (cause they’ll just get reincarnated)

fem!s/o with a death note

[a/n: this is such a rad crossover request, thank you anon! It was incredibly hard to find gifs of mai without zuko in them but anyways, enjoy! -your truly, bunnyy -`ღ´-]

azula

✧ she never believed that the death notes actually existed

✧ Uncle Iroh had told her and Zuko stories of the elusive death note and how they were heavily gate kept by spirit gods of death

✧ she shrugged off the silly ghost stories and went on with her life

✧ that was until she met you

✧ “Ryuk, I’ve already given you more than enough apples for today.” You sighed

✧ “oh come on! Just gimme one more, they’re just so juicy.” the deep and gravelly voice had caught her off guard

✧ “Okay, fine.”

✧ when she rounded the corner, there you were stood all alone...looking up at a floating apple? that was slowly disappearing???

✧ “Now that you’ve got your treat, focus. Zuko said that we needed to write General Zhao’s name in the death note before sunset.” Her eyes widened when a...well when a monster had appeared in front of you and finished off the apple

✧ “Why’re we working with that little twerp anyways?”

✧ “Cause if you want to keep eating those delicious apples, I need money. So come on.”

✧ there was a couple of things running through her mind: you were absolutely gorgeous, death notes were real, she just saw a shinigami creature, and her brother was in town

✧ she had seen you once again a couple of days after General Zhao’s sudden and untimely demise, you were at the market picking out some apples

✧ “Those apples seem like a fine choice.” You jumped at he sudden presence beside you

✧ “O-Oh well yes, they’re quite delicious.” you glanced upwards, just above her head

✧ ‘azula, 85 years’

✧ “Isn’t that the twerps’ sister?” Ryuk asked from besides you

✧ “Well I would assume so, seeing as your friend enjoys them so much.” She smirked when she saw you tense up

✧ “What?! There’s no way she can see me!” The shinigami in question crossed his arms skeptically

✧ she leaned in close to you, “I know you have a death note, I saw your friend the other day too. The ugly looking one.”

✧ “Ugly?!” Both you and Ryuk shouted in unison

✧ “Who are you callin’ ugly?!” he growled

✧ at first, Azula just wanted to use her for her own bidding but as she started to actually get to know you...she fell in love with you

✧ she learned about how the relic had been passed down to you and how you only used it on people that truly deserved it which she respected

✧ she’d always ask if you’d write her brother’s name in it, to which you always declined

✧ “You can see how long I’ll live right? How much time do I’ve got left?”

✧ “Baby, you know I can’t tell you that.” she would always pout when you said that

✧ dating you also meant she was basically dating Ryuk

✧ “Hey Azula?”

✧ “What is it Ryuk?” she didn’t bother looking up from her book

✧ “Would ya’ so me a favor and buy some apples...we ran out.”

✧ “Hmm...no.”

✧ “Oh come on~ I’ll tell ya’ how many years you’ve got~”

✧ she had never gotten up quicker in her life, of course Ryuk never told her though, claiming that he had no idea of any such deal

✧ you know what happened to her when she was younger and the psychological trauma it caused her

✧ you would 1000/10 write her dad’s name in the book and make him die a very slow and painful death

✧ a messenger hawk sent by Zuko had arrived to inform the both of you that Ozai died while in prison

✧ “Oh dear...that sounds horrible.” you patted her back, cue Ryuk chuckling somewhere in the background

✧ “You didn’t have anything to do with this (y/n)...did you?” She had a tiny smirk on her lips

✧ “Hmm? Uhm nope, no I uh-I don’t think so.” She held your face in her hands and smashing her lips against yours in a heated kiss, taking you by surprise

✧ “So, does this mean you’re not mad?” You asked as you both breathlessly pulled away

✧ “Quite the opposite really.” She sat back against the couch and pulled you onto her lap, “Why don’t I show you how I feel about it.” She held the back of your head and pulled you into another kiss

✧ “Really? You have to do that now?”

✧ “RYUK!!”

✧ “Yeah, yeah...I’ll go.”

mai

☸ despite her disinterested attitude, she’s very interested in the notion of the death note

☸ “Where are you taking me Ty Lee?”

☸ “You’ll see.” She rolled her eyes at her bubbly friend but let herself be tugged along to Azula’s meeting room

☸ once inside, her eyes landed on the most beautiful human being she had ever seen

☸ you were lazily leaning back against the seat, feet thrown up on the table and talking to Azula about something

☸ “Oh Mai, there you are! This is (y/n), she’s gonna be apart of our team from here on out.”

☸ when you looked up, you pulled your legs off of the table and sat up straight, eyes widening and a pink tint ever so present on your cheeks

☸ both Ty Lee and Azula noticed instantly

☸ well...so did Ryuk

☸ “OOH~ look at you, somebody has a crush~” This made your cheeks a flaming read color

☸ she loved your aesthetic, even if you were in fire nation clothes, you made it look so goth/alt (lowkey Misa vibe) she also really liked Ryuk

☸ it was a mistake ever introducing the two

☸ Azula would put the two of you (again, technically three cause of baby boy Ryuk) on missions together

☸ “I know what you’re trying to Azula and it’s not gonna work, so knock it off!”

☸ “I have no idea what you’re talking about Mai.” She feigned innocence as she called you over.

☸ “Yeah?”

☸ “Oh nothing really, I was just wondering if you could go with Mai to pick up more supplies?”

☸ “Oh, of course. Sounds like fun.” When you grinned, Mai turned a deep shade of pink

☸ she hated running errands with you because it felt so domestic

☸ she finally had enough

☸ when you were picking up some fruit, mainly apples, and placing them in your basket, she tapped your shoulder

☸ “(y/n)..”

☸ “Yes Mai?” You looked up at her with those doe eyes and she just couldn’t control herself, she gripped your chin between her index finger and thumb to tilt your head upward

☸ you blushed but didn’t make a move to get out of her grip, your eyes giving her the ‘go ahead’ and she timidly leaned down and softly placed her lips against yours

☸ her heart was beating even faster when she felt your velvety lips move against hers

☸ the two of you would be such witchy/cottagecore lesbians(or bisexuals), don’t @ me

☸ once the two of you left that toxic little group, she’d very much enjoy having her own adventures with you

☸ she’s not a very PDA person so don’t expect too much from her in public but she has no problem giving you all the kisses you want while closed doors

☸I think the both of you would have such a chill/fun relationship

☸ she would definitely bring you to the jasmine dragon for no other purpose than to show you off and make Zuko jealous

☸ boy did that backfire

☸ you end up being good buddies with him and Iroh

☸ “You’re not jealous, are you?” You asked, amusement clear in your voice

☸ “Of course not.” She huffed, crossing her arms. “I’m not stupid. Why would I be jealous?”

☸ You saw through it and chuckled softly at her pouty face, leaning forward and placing a sweet kiss on he puffed out lips

☸ “I’ll always love you and always you, Mai. Don’t over forget that.” She blushed and looked away

☸ “God you guys are so mushy, I’m gonna throw up.”

☸ “Shut up Ryuk, go bother Zuko or something.” Mai scoffed as she leaned forward for another kiss

#mai x reader #azula x reader #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender x reader #atla headcanons #avatar the last airbender headcanons #anon ask #anon request

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daydadahlias · 3 years

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🕶 🥰 🌗 💎

From Emoji Asks <3

🕶canonverse or au?

Depends. For just like a PWP one-shot? Canonverse. For a long one? AU usually. I prefer AUs most of the time because it feels like I’m just reading the author’s original work and fanfiction is just the vehicle to allow the masses to read it. I like writing AUs for that reason. So I can really craft my own worlds and just force them onto you. But I do really like canonverse fics. Like any fic about the 2017 stint when Ashton and Luke lived together? Gimme. Or, like, a fic where they feel like they have to be in a secret relationship for press reasons? God, it’s my favorite. But I like AUs, that’s my answer. I like being immersed in a new tiny world.

🥰 fave fic you’ve written?

Oh god. That’s actually really hard. My favorite fic… I have to say that it’s “Scene 14” which isn’t surprising. S14 was a several month project, she’s my longest 5sos fic, and she’s my most popular. I truly loved writing that fic… It was so easy and so enjoyable and I got to talk about acting which I never really have been able to do before! And S14 Ashton is without a doubt my favorite rendition of Ashton I’ve written. He is just… He has so much, y’know? There’s so much there with him. Because I got to write this loud and proud guy who wasn’t really all that arrogant? He was just proud, because he could be. And he was handsome and charismatic and just the most entertaining romantic lead. And then he also had the most goddamn delicious vulnerable moments… I mean, writing those scenes on the stage? They’re some of my favorite scenes I’ve ever written in anything. Because I love characters that don’t want to own up to being weak, because they’re scared of it. And S14 Ashton is terrified and refuses to show it and it’s the most fun thing to write. Also, the miscommunication I love, and the recurring themes/symbols I love… I mean, there’s so much about that fic that I’m so proud of and I really enjoy it!! I think it’s funny, I think it’s heartwarming, I think it’s got some good overarching angst to it… Overall, it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written. And I couldn’t be happier with it!

🌗 fluff or angst?

You might know this about me at this point… I’ve got a thing for angst. I live and breathe it. I yearn for it. I thrive in the throws of trauma, people. Gimme that shit. I want hurt/comfort. It’s my favorite thing in the whole world. I want a character not want to admit they’re in pain but for the other character to coax it out of them and help them through that. I want recovery fics, goddammit!! I want a character to cry and try to force it back. I want another character to stroke their hair lovingly and tell them it’ll all be okay. Where is that content?? Give it to me right now. That is an order, soldier.

💎 fave trope to write?

I’ll tell you honestly what my favorite thing to write is,,, slowly established vulnerability. Like when a character is obviously putting up walls and then they get taken down bit by bit until it’s time for a Confession Moment. I did it in “This December” and S14 and “Sleeping Pills” and I just love it. I love outburst moments, whether they be rash and violent or withdrawn and nervous. I love when a character admits something to another, something they’ve kept secret for so long and never told anyone else. Like in TD when Ashton cries at the Christmas lights and tells Luke why he doesn’t celebrate the holiday, or when S14 Ashton admits he’s never had a first time. Those kinds of scenes are just otherworldly for me. There’s nothing I love like writing them. Oh! Or when “Red Light” Luke is surprised that Ashton is treating him like a person, you know? It’s those types of scenes that really wreck me. When a character is vulnerable in a way they never have been with someone else.

#pigeon #ask game #weepingwillowyangel #thank you for asking!!!

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aflyingcontradiction · 3 years

Text

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 98 - Lights Out

Martin: I don’t know. I mean, he kind of explained. I think? John’s “too inconsistent” at the moment. He needs to make up for the shortfall. Which, I guess means me.

I don't actually remember how making Martin read the statements plays into Elias's greater plan, someone jog my memory? Is it literally just kibble for the Eye?

Martin: Yeah, y’know, y’know what? A little privacy would be nice sometimes, okay? Not everything’s for you! You don’t need to listen to everything that we –

I just like how Martin's giving a tape recorder a lecture on basic privacy and how that sounds completely absurd out of context but makes perfect sense in context.

In particular he seems to share that peculiarly specific mania regarding the fate of John Franklin and his lost expedition. - Statement of Doctor Algernon Moss

The only reason my knowledge of this expedition isn't precisely zero is because multiple people I follow are fans of the show The Terror and occasionally I scroll past an informative post regarding the history thereof.

I had one great friend during my time at Repton, a lad named George Denman. I’m sure you recognise the name, given the recent speeches he’s been giving on capital punishment.

Apparently this is another instance of TMA just grabbing historical figures and going "Mine now." A quick look at Wikipedia tells me that what Denman was saying about capital punishment seems to have mostly been "Public executions are a great idea." But no information on schoolboy tattoos, unfortunately.

The first of the collection was titled Der Sandmann, and was what I believe would these days be referred to as a psychological story, dealing with the madness, trauma and hallucinations of the protagonist, including the eponymous Sandman.

We read this in school, actually, and I loved it SO MUCH. If you're a fan of horror, it's genuinely worth the read!

“He comes to children who don’t go to bed, and throws his sand all into their eyes, and they start to bleed. He takes those fallen eyes up in his bag, and carries them up into the crescent moon, to his nest, where his own children feast upon them. They have crooked beaks like owls, all the better to pick the eyes of naughty human children.”

Yeah, this part of the story stuck with me, too. It's pretty gruesome.

A thin beam of moonlight was clearly marked upon the floor, where a gap in the curtains let it shine through. As the long dark foot touched it, I watched that moonlight curdle like rancid milk.

TMA continuing to hit it out of the park with the vivid impossible imagery!

I reached out to where I knew the thing’s pouch would be, and seized a handful of sand. It was already slick with my blood as I lifted it and cast it into my face. I do not suppose I need to dwell upon the pain, but please know that I would sooner die than endure it again.

Oh, this is making me cringe a bit. Eye injury is easily the injury most likely to get to me when I see or read things about it.

Melanie: Just, um, gimme, gimme an hour or so. I, I just have a few things to take care of… first.

I love how Melanie's all "Let me just murder Elias real quick and then we can go and have a drink with Basira".

Elias: I assume this is your first time attempting to poison someone? Do you actually know how many painkillers it takes to kill someone, or were you just hoping I’d take enough to get sick, and you could finish the job… manually?

Elias makes a good point. As far as I'm aware, if you're using pretty much any medication that is readily available, the chance you'll be able to hide enough of it in a cup of coffee to kill someone with it is ... kinda zilch unless they happen to be allergic. Might give them liver damage if you're lucky. It's actually a bit silly of Melanie not to do basic research before she literally tries to poison somebody.

Elias: Let’s have no more clumsy assassination attempts, alright? And we’ll say no more about it. Consider this your first warning. Next time I shall have to escalate matters, and that won’t be a pleasant process for anybody.

Oh god, I love nonchalant cool-and-controlled villainy. (I mean, I also love chewing-the-scenery-with-reckless-abandon villainy. I just like villains. But Elias is definitely a delicious flavour of villain.)

My impression of this episode

This episode has a lot going on pre- and post-statement. The conversation of Martin and Tim at the start is interesting but of course nothing compared to the confrontation of Melanie and Elias - Elias truly is a delightful bastard. The statement itself honestly wasn't all that memorable to me - probably the most memorable part of it was the reference to Der Sandmann and the quote from it and that's not really the statement's doing, that's E.T.A. Hoffmann.

#the magnus archives #tma relisten

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eusuntgratie · 3 years

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D, H, I, N, & T because I am curious and greedy 😘

i love it 💜

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t (again: be nice)

hmmm this is a good question. I can’t really ever get 100% behind a ship that’s like half of one of my OTP’s with somebody else. It’s not that I can’t like it, but it’s never endgame. So I’ve read and loved some great BuckyNat and I love this one fic where Steve and Nat sleep together as friends but I can’t like SHIP SHIP them because Stucky is embedded into my soul. I live for Stiles having a slutty phase and sleeping with the entire fucking world, so I’m cool with reading him with other people, but Sterek is always gonna be endgame for me. So yeah. I’m a sap, I guess. SamBucky is probably a good example of this. They’re cute and funny and people are gonna ship the shit out of them bc Mackie and Sebastian are hilarious together and they will actually interact on screen for more than three minutes (gasp!). And I get it! But... I can’t. Not really. I’m going down with that Stucky ship, man.

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., tv shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)

oooooh another good one. TV Shows! So I’ve never been intense about a fandom except the MCU and then Teen Wolf. So I’m working with like 42 total minutes of screentime and approximately 19 words of dialog from Bucky in all of that. For my favorite character and half of my OTP. Which is fucked. We get some great scenes...but not very many of them. So it’s been fun to get into Teen Wolf which I’m still not even done watching. My OTP over there ALSO only has like 5 seconds of shared screentime, but there’s more little shit and more character development and more quirks and more randomness I can pick up on because there’s just more there to work with.

I - Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why

whole fandoms, no. but I’ve gotten good at blocking and unfollowing people because there’s a whole lot of drama and bullshit out there. I only really interact with a handful of people who are chill and lovely and I prefer it like that. Fandom is my happy place and my escape, so if people are ridiculous I’m pretty quick to tap out. I’m just here to reblog pretty gifs, keep up with my fave writers, chat about silly fandom things, and stare at hoechlin’s delicious thighs. bucky’s too. gotta love a man with nice thighs. what were we talking about?

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice)

So in general, I ALWAYS want more accurate/authentic mental health representation, more bi/pan representation, and more characters that are just fuckin’ crazed by their horniness...I need be on your dick right now or I’m gonna DIE dramatics just peak thirst I love it.

Teen Wolf deals with mental health horribly (I’ll give that I appreciate that Stiles talks openly about having anxiety and panic attacks which is HUGE especially for a male character his age BUT) - ADHD is a joke, horror movie mental institution, a pretty girl kisses a boy to stop his panic attack (what), a character with HORRIFIC trauma treated as a joke and multiple other characters use that trauma or ignore it and trigger him, where to begin with Derek/Kate etc. etc. etc. so I’d really love to see more fic that addresses...any of that....well. And there is some great stuff out there! But I’d like to see more. Same with Stucky. Steve and Bucky have infinite trauma. Please let them deal with that.

I feel like every character on teen wolf is bi? Almost? So...gimme all of that. Always here for that.

OH MY GOD one more - ALWAYS give me more good kink. It is so fucking hard to find good well written kink and BDSM fic and I love it so much.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything)

There isn’t much that I’m so intense about I can read/think about/accept anything else. If a fic sets it up well enough I’ll happily go on the journey of Steve being a unicorn. You just gotta lay that fuckin’ groundwork, man. Make it make sense and I’m in.

I’m not intense about sexual preferences ever (I just want everyone to bone how doesn’t really matter), but the closest I’ve come to having a strong preference is just my absolute LOVE of bottom derek. Almost everyone writes bottom stiles but OH MY GOD I am just a complete and total whore for bottom derek. or sub derek. or both. i can’t. I just want Stiles to take care of him and make him babble and whine and beg and I’m gonna get inappropriate I’ll shut up now.

OH WAIT I HAVE ONE. Papa Stilinski is a good fucking dad. He doesn’t do everything right (he’s a fucking cop) but he’s a good dad who loves his kid and is trying. He’s also not an alcoholic. I have alcoholics in my family. One scene where he drinks whisky in front of his teenage kid doesn’t make him an alcoholic. Stiles’ wolfsbane nightmare/vision thing is exactly that - a nightmare. Scott saw Allison fucking Jackson. Allison saw her killing...herself. It’s a nightmare...a projection of fears. Stiles worries about his dad and about everything being his fault, so that’s the vision he gets. Don’t shit on Papa Stilinski he’s lovely.

fandom asks | ask me

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almaasi · 4 years

Text

reaction post typed while watching SPN 15x15 “Gimme Shelter”

fact: Cas is the best

02:35pm

well now i have africa by toto in my head

i am TIRED

i just went out to vote and i used up all my spoons

but i’m already a day late with this soooooo... i will use a fork

does it occur to sam and dean that by killing both god and the darkness it might not save the world but end it

i think this sloppy food is meant to look unappealing, but to me, a person who is both hungry and hasn’t eaten anything but mushed banana and burned green beans and assorted other mush and quinoa for over a year, it looks fucking delicious

i like pastor guy

i was informed it’s the same actor as played dr. sexy

i’m hoping that’s at least referenced

(edit: it was not. but i ain’t even mad, i really enjoyed this character and i think the actor would’ve been more limited if he’d been stuck with the dr. sexy character. he did a really moving job here)

02:45

dean trying to wordlessly signal to his husband that he needs to do the babysitting today

02:48

jack has a teddy <3

whY AND HOW DOES CAS HAVE A PHOTO OF HIMSELF AS A COWBOY

DID DEAN DEMAND THEY STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD AND PULL OUT HIS PHONE FOR A PHOTOSHOOT

AND PRINT PHOTOS

FOR REASONS

i like zack the crossroad demon

what a nerd

giving me crowley vibes but more good omens crowley than spn crowley

(edit: i wonder if zack is coming back another time? was that thread left open? he got in the car with the girl at the end but THEN WHAT)

cas: “no. no we’re gonna stay. we can help.”

THAT WAS SOFT

“vALERIe”

AND THE MASK

jumpscared me

jesus

03:03pm

jack: “i have more dads than most”

sounds like his parents are in some kind of queerpoly relationship....

HMM

.........actually you know what, i think that was the point, i think it was meant to sound queer and when the girl doesn’t react negatively to that it shows what kind of church it is

wait wait i’m sorry

not church

faith based community

(i like that, actually)

connor confirmed gay

eyy it’s a good faith based community

but also sad the gay guy dies first :/

“a saint is a sinner who keeps trying”

10/10

???????????????

THE

GAS THING

IS BEHIND THE NUMBER PLATE

?????????????

FIFTEEN SEASONS AND OVER A DECADE ON TUMBLR AND I NEVER KNEW THAT

WHAT THE FUCK

i really don’t think they’re gonna kill amara by the end of this show

i still think amara, rowena, and billie make up some kind of holy trifecta and they outlive everyone else

i appreciate the narrative importance of not lying in this circle, because that’s why folks are dying

jack and cas don’t even know that

but cas wouldn’t even lie about his name

i love this

cas: “and i became a father, and in that i rediscovered my faith”

;~;

enjoying the reflection of cas and jack being completely honest, and sam and dean lying to amara on purpose

i attended a zoom torah class earlier this week and it was about the concept of adam being nonbinary, as in one androgynous being was split into masculine and feminine

that’s what amara talking about her and chuck being twins reminded me of

cas heals valerie’s hand while the pastor watches and i’m crying and i don’t even know why

cas is so good

i love cas so much

this is gonna give a bunch of these characters weird ptsd

they have injury trauma but no injury and nobody’s gonna believe them

03:37pm

cas: “in case i don’t make it back, there’s something you--”

me: OH????

cas: “--and sam need to know”

me: oh.

10/10

i really liked this one

cas and jack’s story especially. my heart was warmed by it, and i’m so RELIEVED by their honesty. it really stood out to me that jack decided to open up to cas, and cas, i assume, tells dean at the end of the episode.

i am really really hoping this is the snowball rolling down the hill towards actual genuine growth for all of them, wherein they don’t keep things from each other the way they have been doing for way too long.

maybe the one thing chuck never counted on is the winchesters not lying to each other.

#spn #Elmie writes things #season 15 #15x15 #spn spoilers #post of postiness #giime shelter #Elmie watches things

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i-am-just-a-kiddo · 3 years

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ok so I tried to come up with three characters like you did for me but this was very difficult. so feel free to ignore some if you don't like it or feel like talking about someone else :'D but the beauty ghost/liu qianqiao (word of honor), yu tangchun (killer and healer, bc i know you like our opera boy) and seo moonjo (strangers from hell, bc i am always curious about you and this dentist lol)

Aaaah thanks for these! 💗 It’s been a joy to answer them, so I hope you can get through my ramblings about them.

Referring to Give Me A Character

and I’ll break their ass down:

How I feel about this character

All the people I ship romantically with this character

My non-romantic OTP for this character

My unpopular opinion about this character

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

My answers under the cut:

Liu Qian Qiao/ Beauty Ghost (Word of Honor)

How I feel about her: I love her and she deserves better. I’ve not finished the drama yet and I know surprisingly little spoilers about her. I just love to see her acting on her own accord, standing up for the person she loves. Being protective and so caring of Luo Fu Meng, it breaks my heart. From what I’ve seen, she’s gotten on my radar only recently - after they saved Luo Fu Meng from the prison, I got really excited to see more of her and them in general.

I think she deserves better than that pathetic man whose name I don’t bother to remember. I’m scared of what the show will do to her but I’m so excited to see more, especially now that Scorpion got them in his clutches? She’s on par with him and I’m curious which direction this will go. However, as with many C-dramas unfortunately, she does not really feel tangible to me? There is always something missing, just a small piece that will make her feel more true to me. Maybe the drama will deliver on that? I’m not sure what to expect.

All the people I ship romantically with her: Luo Fu Meng!!! Lesbian ghosts rights!!! Their recent scenes have been breaking me and I just want to see more of them. I want to know more about their past together, about their dynamic. Luo Fu Meng is her master but right now, Liu Qian Qiao is the one guiding and caring for her. It shows how equal they actually are, even if not in their title. Liu Qian Qiao’s devotion to her feels so burning and determined - whatever she has going on with that man just pales in contrast. She was ready to risk it all for her and she would never abandon her. She’s willing to do anything and I’m just praying for their lives - please don’t fuck it up, @ show writers.

In short, I just need more of them. Please.

My non-romantic OTP for her: I loved her interaction with A-Xiang a lot - she truly seems like an older sibling to her and it’s precious to see. I can see them being easily annoyed with each other but also fiercely protective of the other. I can see A-xiang being an unstoppable whirlwind and Qian Qiao trying to ground her, while being incredibly fond. I can also see A-xiang pulling her older sister out of her own head, grounding her and validating her? Tell her that she is more than she thinks of herself, and that she deserves a lot more than she allows for herself. I need more of their interaction because I’m weak for found family tropes and I need more of the ladies doing their own thing outside of Wen Kexing’s or someone else’s periphery.

Also I want more interaction with her and the Evil Bodhisattva???? The potential that friendship has? Please gimme.

My unpopular opinion: I don’t know any opinions? I’ve not yet dived deeply into the WOH fandom because I’m not done with the drama yet. I’ve generally seen little content about her and the other ghost ladies, which is a pity. Once I get there, I’m excited to dive into all the fandom has to offer.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I’m on episode 24, so I can’t really judge what the show is gonna do to her, but so far I wish for more depth. Less of that horrible man being affiliated with her. Less of her being subjected to violence. More agency. More of her and Fu Meng interacting, caring for each other, being in each other’s space. I hope her to survive and not be killed, so I’m crossing fingers.

Yu Tangchun (Killer and Healer)

How I feel about this character: OH BOY. I have freshly baked feelings about him, get ready. Warning for spoilers:

First of all, I always felt the drama did not dive into him as deeply as I had wished. Something was always missing there, but I can’t really name what. Maybe more depth, other than just being sick and out for revenge? He had more potential and I will get to it later. But from all I’ve gotten from him, I love how strong he is, and how much bravery there is in such a small body. He has his own mind and own agenda and doesn’t allow people pushing him around - I also love how deceiving he can be, even to his friends (namely Chen Yuzhi when he asked for that drug). He is a clever fox and I love that for him. Which also made him incredibly unpredictable to me in the beginning - I just couldn’t quite place him?

In the end, am just incredibly fond and he deserved so so much better than the show ever gave him.

All the people I ship romantically with him: Zhan Junbai, with all its flaws. From the first moment on, their tension just made me go ???????? the whole time. It was amazing and unsettling to watch, see its development and knowing this could not end well. A very delicious dynamic that always treaded the line of will they or won’t they (whether that refers to killing each other or otherwise). At some point I felt a little more invested into their plotline simply because it was so interesting and unpredictable. The mutual attraction is undeniable, which made what happened later even more heartbreaking and fucked up.

It could have never worked, even if Zhan Zhunbai had been less of a dick. They deserved a different ending - at least Yu Tangchun should have been the one to kill him, or at least they should have had a proper showdown together. After all - they were more than friends at this point.

My non-romantic OTP: I loved his friendship with Chen Yuzhi, but I must say I would have loved to see him more with Chu Ran! If we imagine a different ending, they could have bonded together so much over what Zhan Junbai did to the both of them. They are both so gentle and headstrong, I wish we had gotten more of them together. It could be relaxing and freeing for the both of them.

Also I’ve always wondered how exactly Yu Tangchun’s friendship with Jiang Yuelou worked? I think this got way too little spotlight.

My unpopular opinion about him: I have no idea what is popular and what isn’t? Maybe that I sort of enjoyed the idea of Yu Tangchun joining Zhan Junbai, even though I knew it wouldn’t happen. Let me dream, that could have been a different level of conflict.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Oh boy. Oh boy. SO MUCH. Spoilers ahead if you haven’t finished the show:

First of all, his ending?? It felt way too rushed and while not out of character, he deserved so much more than his death being an afterthought to the plot and a few sad gay flashbacks. The entire ending felt rushed and oh boy, could I rant about it here, but I will try and focus on Yu Tangchun. So yes, give him the respect he deserves.

Another thing which I have mentioned above is that I wished they had given him more depth? Just a little bit more other than the trauma and agony he went through. I also wish I had seen more of his opera and his story with it - how he got there, how he thinks about it. We only ever got glimpses and I get that a show can only focus on so much, but still.

I also wish his ending with Zhan Junbai had been different - in a sense that I wanted him to break Zhan Junbai, lure some genuine emotions on his face other than anger. I wish they had gotten more….closure? I don’t even know. It didn’t feel satisfactory at all. Zhan Junbai went through so much trouble to keep him and then suddenly he let’s him go and then he dies? It just went too quickly. If at least Yu Tangchun had been there to kill him in the end, or at least get some sort of closure. I’m rambling now because I don’t know what I wanted for them but it was certainly more than what the show gave me. I am so frustrated about the ending of the show, help me.

Seo Moonjo (Strangers from Hell)

How I feel about this character: Conflicted. That is the short answer to that, but of course I’m not here to give a short answer. Do I have to clarify that I do not condone the actions of a cannibalistic serial killer in real life? I hope not. Okay, let’s get to it then.

Seo Moonjo (or Mr. Dentist, as I lovingly call him) to me is incredibly intimidating. Part of it is that Lee Dong Wook does an incredible job at depicting him as charming and terribly unsettling at the same time. From the first second he shows up on screen, you feel this presence - and you feel intrigue and fear. Which is what Seo Moonjo wants, it’s what he preys on.

So when I think about how I feel about him, I think he is one of the best villains I’ve encountered recently, simply because he makes me feel the same way he makes Jongwoo feel. I’m very fascinated? I feel Seo Moonjo is a very lonely person, lost in his own ideals and morals. He has absolutely no sense of social propriety and does not intend to learn them. He’s so caught up in his own art and his desire for a certain life, it’s almost pitiful how much he desires it. But of course, once I feel a sliver of pity, he reminds me that he is - indeed - hell personified. I am still lowkey mad that he charmed me (why is being a villain so sexy smh).

Summing up, I love and hate him. What a creepy bastard.

All the people I ship romantically with him: Yoon Jongwoo, despite all the cruelty of it. I think comparing this show to NBC’s Hannibal is very valid, even though these two never got a proper development of their relationship like Will and Hannibal did. I absolutely think that Seo Moonjo is in love with Jongwoo and wants him to be his, wants to wrap him up in his life and make him the ‘perfect art-piece’ he had always wanted in his collection. No matter how sick it is, this obsession is probably the closest Seo Moonjo can get to feeling love - he does not know how else to love.

So what do I want for them? I want Jongwoo to get his revenge, to make Seo Moonjo suffer as much as he did. I want Jongwoo to see eye to eye with him so they can walk with equal footing. I want Seo Moonjo to realise that Jongwoo has as much power over him as he thinks he has over the other. After this, they can be murder husbands for all I care, in true Hannibal-esque fashion. The emancipation of Jongwoo needs to happen first, and Seo Moonjo needs to realise that he is not the invincible one in this relationship. After that, they can have a good time together, no matter how fucked up that time may look like.

Also, I am convinced that he ‘dated’ Yoo Gihyeok in a twisted way, before he went and fucked up his plans; and before Jongwoo came to cath his eye.

My non-romantic OTP: As mentioned above - Seo Moonjo is a lone wolf. Yes he had his pack and someone that guided him on this path, but none of them ever come close to him to see his heart. The show itself doesn’t give him much space to see a potential friendship except the one he has with Jongwoo. Jongwoo would be the answer for this as well. (also to be fair, I don’t wish anyone to be friends with him damn)

However, if I could explore more dynamics he has with other people, I would love to see it with Officer So. I think she is an incredibly interesting and strong character and the few scenes they had together were fascinating - she came as his patient and ended up being his enemy. In another installment of this show, I would’ve loved to see more interaction like that and see the development of them being pleasant acquaintances (and maybe Seo Moonjo realising that she too is worth his attention) to enemies. I want Seo Moonjo to find respect for her.

My unpopular opinion: I’m not into depicting him as fancy rich, as many do in fics. Yes he’s a dentist and surely has a ton of money, but I like the idea that despite this wealth, he would always be a shabby sort of person. Not decked out with a luxurious rooftop apartment and wearing dress-shirts every day and expensive watches; but rather using his wealth to make himself safe from detection, finding remote areas, buying utensils and appliances for his ‘art’. So no, I reject the vision of him lounging on the highest building in Seoul with a minimalist empty apartment. I see him in a ratty rundown but expensive old mansion/house that has many corners for his artistic endeavours. I’ve already picked the perfect house for him in Busan, on the top of a hill overseeing the city and the harbour.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I’ve mentioned it above, but I wish Seo Moonjo had gotten to feel more pain. We got Jongwoo’s liberation and Moonjo being proud of his ‘artwork’ while Jongwoo kills him, but that was not the revenge Jongwoo needed. In the end, Moonjo still lingers with him, as a constant presence, and he never got a taste of his own medicine. While watching this show, all I wanted was Jongwoo to break Moonjo’s heart. This would not make up the suffering Moonjo put him through but at least they would be equal. So I have my own revenge fantasy with this character that is more than ‘merely’ killing him. Being killed by Jongwoo just felt like an honour to Seo Moonjo and I’m not satisfied with that.

Phew okay I’m done! Thank you for giving me something to ramble about, it was a joy!!

#personal #answers #tag game #am gonna tag it like this #word of honor #killer and healer #strangers from hell

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oswald-privileges · 3 years

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Vampire AU, do you have one, what's it like

first off i gotta say i love the blunt urgency of this ask. No context, no question mark, not even saying what the au might be of, just. vampires. now. gimme. this is an energy i can appreciate

The only aus I really ever have are for my OCs, and I got not one, but TWO vampire-based aus.

One is literally just “hey. i want to make Vincent a vampire, so i can give him hunger and teeth and suffering.” because, frankly, those are the three main aspects of a vampire au that i love. Uncontrollable, or at the very least intrusive, bloodlust, FANGS, and ‘I’m a sentient being who has to murder other sentient beings to live, how the FUCK do i square with that’.

There isn’t so much a plot as @ky-the-squiddy humouring and enabling me as I excitedly describe disjointed hunger-angst and murder, and Charlie having a horrible time trying to cope with the idea that his friend is a monster but also loves him. Ky is the best and i am forever grateful.

The other is technically a Being Human au, because Ky and I were rewatching it last year, and we love a good character-focused drama where They’re All Monsters. Vincent is our vampire, Charlie a werewolf, and Sophia a ghost. We did do a bit of the present-day fun nonsense, but mostly we sort of accidentally ended up spending most of our interest in Vin’s backstory (quelle surprise) because all of our interest at that point in time was channelled into Vincent/Cash who are DREADFUL but also morbidly fascinating as a couple.

In this case we had Vin as a drafted ww1 private who ran into Cash (nearly 2000 years at this vampire thing and still going strong) while trying to get out of either a) dying on the battlefield or b) getting shot by his own side for desertion. Big noise big trauma long story short Vin ends up killing/feeding on his best friend/love at the time, tries very hard to cope with this without Cash, fails SPECTACULARLY, spends a long time being Cash’s favourite toy, and is currently making a second break for freedom while Cash waits patiently for him to get the last of his humanity out of his system and to come back. It’s so deliciously dramatic and i LOVE it

#honestly I could talk about vampires or monsters all day #PLEASE let me know if you want Details #Anonymous

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tarithenurse · 4 years

Text

The good Villain - 3

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader (eventually) Content: Some gore, slight angst and sadness due to trauma, sexual innuendos A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful responses and reblogs! Please know that even if I don’t answer them individually, I do see and recognize the names of you all.

Chapter 3

… Reader …

The smells are different on Terra. It should not have been such a surprise, really, because the chemical compositions always vary from one planet to the next, and you have gotten used to it after the third place you went to eradicate the Leeches. This planet: here the dancing flames burn with a thousand shades of yellow to red, sometimes a flicker matching your hair near the fuel, lifting up a tauntingly homey scent…like roast trifaerh. Combined with the blazing heat it calls upon memories of your childhood and, from much later, the quiet nights with your crew when a mission had been completed successfully and required celebration. Sinking to your knees, ignoring the oozing dripple of liquids snaking out from under the impromptu pyre, you allow the feelings to surface.

Seven. Each strong, eager, with long lives ahead of them until that last mission. Even now, you can see their smiling faces and hear their voices bantering as every crewmember carried out their duties in preparation for docking.

The research station was little, only hosting a few scientists and their families and you had wondered where the vessels were – had someone left to find help? Still, the distress signal was re-sent rather than looped and without physical evidence from the outside that something was wrong, you tasked the crew to follow you through the airlocks.

A shiver runs down your spine at the recollection and you hug yourself as best you can with the clumsy arm. Every blazing fire is to honour your crew, to prevent others from suffering the same fate as they did, and it brings you a warped calm to acknowledge the small victory. The problem is that as soon as the fire dies the sense of peace is extinguished too.

“I won’t rest,” you croak in a hoarse whisper, “not until I’ve exterminated them all.”

“We were afraid you’d say that.” The answer does not belong to any of the ghosts of your past, and despite the automatic translation the underlying threat remains obvious. “Gimme one good reason not to kill ya…right…now.”

“I can provide several.” Slowly getting to your feet you hear the slight shuffle of other Terrans. “One…” the counting is neatly indicated by a finger, “you have to know if there are more with the same goal.” The reflection in the broken windows shows a gaudy robot behind you with a strangely realistic, Terran face. “Secondly…you want to know why.”

… Loki …

The restraints are somewhat alternative due to the injuries of the Betan, and her quiet compliance sets Loki on edge as much as it intrigues him. She oozes of calculative planning while at the same time offering them much more than they could have hoped for when she tells them where her gear is and allows Thor and Stark to drag her from the derelict factory towards the exit. Only as they reach the threshold out into the rain does she fight them – a brief struggle ended by a well aimed blow to the back of her head delivered by Barnes.

“Huh!” Natasha removes something from the Betan’s backpack. “Salt? What’s that for?”

“Keep looking, there might be tequila too,” someone comments dryly.

Barton ducks in time to avoid the still perfectly sealed ingredient, proving that he was the speaker. At the very least, it is obvious to everyone that the packaging is the original. Maybe the Betan needs it for nutritional purposes? Not much was mentioned of the race in the report and Loki has honestly not payed much attention to the planet and its inhabitants during the last century or nine.

…

A long leg dangles over the armrest, allowing the chair to cradle Loki comfortably as he whiles the hours away. He has brought a book but watching the prisoner is a more welcoming distraction – especially now she begins to stir.

The first signs are the change in rhythm of the chest’s rising and falling, then the little ticks in her fingers. Next instant she is on her feet in a defensive position with the back against the wall as her impossibly dark eyes scan the surroundings without missing a detail of her prison – including the watcher on the other side of the glass wall.

Loki has not moved a muscle and as his composure remains the same it is clear that she relaxes a fraction – enough to push aside stray, ocean coloured hair, and to cradle the broken arm. He sees her tense anew upon realizing that the blade hidden in the cast is gone. Few would notice your observation. Oh, she is subtle in her ways despite the ferocity of the murders she has committed both here on Midgard and elsewhere.

“Your…benign belongings are under the bed.”

There is a second’s delay before she moves, groping in the darkness without leaving him with the eyes. Moments later a white-covered finger disappears tauntingly slow between her lips, the tip of her tongue briefly visible as it circles the digit with delicious accuracy the God can imagine applied elsewhere.

“All-Speak,” she hums upon extraction, “you are Asgardian.”

“Close enough.” The answer irks her, but Loki continues. “You on the other hand, my little devil, are from Sirius Beta.”

A slight nod to solidify the agreement. “Mhm.”

“Your name’s a challenge for me to pronounce, may I call you [Y/N]?” It sounds almost the same, much shorter of course, but everyone on Beta had convoluted names and it was only under the most pompous circumstances that they were expected to be used unabridged – that much he does know.

“Sure.” She has a way of rolling the shoulder whenever she is about to push a wayward strand of hair out of the face. The same strand.

“Grand. You’re formerly a commander of the Rescue Forces, officially discharged without honours after a jailbreak…but of course,” Loki smirks at the certain conviction of having the upper hand, “there’s no need for me to relay your own accomplishments.”

Again, salt crystals find their way past the murderer’s lips without as much as a single grain being lost due to nervous tremors.

“That is a shame,” [Y/N] pouts, finally relenting Loki a pretend victory in the staring contests, “I would have loved to hear your version of my supposed crimes.”

“Supposed?”

“You heard me.”

“You mean…the way you’ve tracked and killed?”

“Yes, the way I have tracked,” the movements punctuate the words when she steps from the bed, “and…exterminated each threat.”

Few are as callous as she. “They were children!”

But Loki’s frustrated shout bounces off the glass separating them, never hitting her back as she squats to rummage through the few belongings the Avengers have let her keep. Children, you monster! Rage is taking over the Asgardian as past and present blends together to extend a crime ignored for too long, even now as many of time’s shadows have shrunk away from the blinding clarity of hindsight. Little ones! Barely started upon life when she came and robbed them of all that might have been.

“Were they?”

Huh? Loki is never one to be derailed by such a simple question.

“Were they? Children?” Finally having found what she has been looking for, [Y/N] holds up a wad of scribbled notes against the barrier. “Look into the last mission.”

The disembodied voice of Stark’s AI guides the Betan to an airlock system set up to transfer items without risking breaching the containment. By the time Loki hesitantly reaches in to grasp the notes she is back on the bed, legs up against the wall and head dangling over the edge, allowing easy access to the stash of salt.

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