#//this seems like a decent way to get back into my muse

[comesatimecomesashadow]

bones (drabble + reader has curly hair & is insecure about it)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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simon didn't understand why you hated the rain.

it had been about five months into this relationship. both of you were still getting used to this 'relationship' thing. being people that didn't trust (or love) so easily had proved to be a hard thing to overcome, but it was surprisingly what brought the two of you closer. in those five months, simon had already taken note of all your pet peeves, your likes and of course, your dislikes. among these was the rain. he still remembers the vague answer you gave him when he first asked why you hated it so much. 'i don't hate it, it's just.. i don't like getting wet.' it was reason enough to hate it, but he could tell there was more to it.

it was raining when he first came home after about a month of deployment. it was late and the rain didn't seem to let up yet so he hurried to his flat. he decided that he'd go over to yours in the morning when you were awake.

and it was as he said.

at nine in the morning on the dot, there was a number of three knocks on your door. your hair was puffed up after you let it air dry the night prior. 'i'll straighten it tomorrow' you had said before succumbing to your slumber last night. sluggishly, you walked over to the door and opened it. only to immediately close it once you realized it was simon on the other side.

"simon! you- you're back?" your voice was frantic and you could feel his confusion even if he wasn't present in the room. how the hell could you get ready in this short window of time you had? you looked like a mess!

"you say tha' as if it's a bad thing. wanna open the door f'me, love?" truth be told, simon only caught a glimpse of you, so he didn't know why you were hiding from him like this. did something happen to you? something you didn't want him to know about? "Uhm.. can you wait? like.. an hour?" you asked him, your voice small and wavering. "I look like a mess right now." you told him. simon scoffed. "Are you pullin' at my leg, love? You know I don't care about tha'." he leaned against the wall beside your door, and crossed his arms.

"i don't want you to see me like this." you said with sincerity. simon could feel it was something close to your heart, but he couldn't fathom just what it was that you didn't want him to see. you'd been dating for about a while now and he was sure he'd earned your trust so.. really, what was this about?

"love, i promise that whatever it is, it won't change 'ow i feel about you." he promised. with a heavy sigh, you unlocked the door and stood there with your back turned. without hesitation, simon opened the door and was met by your sulking figure. your figure that now donned puffy and curly hair instead of the straight strands you'd always worn around him. he didn't comment on it and instead embraced you close to him. "is it your hair?" he mused after a few minutes. "is that what you were so adamant on hiding?"

you nodded and only sunk into yourself more. "i look a mess, i'm sorry- I didn't-"

"You don't look a mess, love. your hair looks fine to me." he stated, softening his hold to let you turn around and face him. "see, now i know you're lying," you chuckled and returned his embrace. "i've still got to style it to make it look decent, even then it's frizzy and i.. don't really like it."

"Why? I think it'd suit you." in true, simon, fashion; he always said what was on his mind. you reluctantly peeked up at him and let him wipe your tears.

"i don't know, it's .. it looks messy and i havent worn it that way in years.." he could tell you were unsure and to this, he only gave you a kiss on your forehead. "i'd still adore you no matter what state your hair was in. straight or not, i'd still think you were beautiful. alright love?"

at his words, you could only nod as more tears spilled. it felt so comforting to have someone who didn't speak negatively of the natural state of your hair. you'd been afraid to show him that side of yourself, but somehow, he single handedly made you feel like you were the shiniest diamond on earth.

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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ . . . m.list

note : this was inspired by the fact that so many curly girls are told that their curly hair is messy or shameful just because its frizzy or just plain 'not straight'. curly girls, you are loved, your hair is wonderful and anyone that tells you you've got 'bad hair' is wrong.

[write-here-n-now]

Fuzzy Kiwi Head

C.(S). Hyunjin x Idol Reader | WC. 621 | G. Fluff + Comedy | Insp.: Hyunjin's newest look

The year was ending and you were on the fence on whether to begin your year with a new look or to wait and change it up once January had arrived. 

With much inner deliberation as well as discussions with your groupmates, stylists and of course your partner Hyunjin, you decided to head to the salon before the upcoming award shows.

As you walk into your usual salon, your lack of glasses and contacts make the world around you a little fuzzy, so when you’re walking to your usual stylist’s seat you don’t recognize the man you bump into.

“Sorry sir…” you turn, give a small bow of your head, turn back and continue on your way until you hear a familiar voice that halt your steps

“Y/N..?” You turn around, a decent distance away still, and face the man who just recognized you despite your cover up—a fellow colleague perhaps?

You look up to see a taller gentleman, with a striking blond buzzcut, you find yourself squinting because, “hmmm the fellow seems familiar.”

“Yah, Y/Nie! It’s literally ME!” The man exclaims. As he steps closer, you find yourself gobsmacked at not only failing to recognize your boyfriend but also at how his previous long black locks were now chopped into a highly flattering buzzcut?!

“You should always bring your glasses when you go out,” he chuckles out, now in perfect distance for you to really take in his new look.

“...waiiiittt…. you had black hair this morning,, we were literally on Facetime!” you point out, eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“Babe.. look around you,” he gestures. “We’re in a salon,” he explains, shaking his head at your confusion, still finding it cute nonetheless. "I just finished up" 

“Oh..riiigghht.”

Reaching up, you run a hand over his head, the soft hair ending abruptly, you had a lot of getting used to but who were you to complain when he looked absolutely striking.

“You like it..?” he questions, letting you run your hand over the hair.

“It's like…” you ponder, the softness resembled something you knew you had felt before. “....like a pipe cleaner…”

“A what?”

“Mmhmm, yeessss soft like a pipe cleaner,” you muse still rubbing your hand over cut. 

“You’re joking right..?” Who compares hair to an arts and craft item? “A pipe cleaner, really?”

“Yes! Its exactly how a pipe cleaner feels like, “ you’re trying to articulate your analysis but your boyfriend just gives you a side eye. “You know? Like those colourful one but if you had like a bunch of them in a sheet.”

He just rolls his eyes at you trying your best to explain. Here he thought it was gonna be a sweet moment but he was just being compared to something children make caterpillars out of, even comparing him to a little Kiwi would’ve been better but no, pipe cleaner. 

“Ok ok.” He holds your wrist away from his head, he had to go and he knew the stylists were definitely staring at two of you. “I’m gonna go, I have schedules but have a good appointment, hmm.”

He gives you a quick little kiss to the forehead, before turning you by your shoulders and gently pushing you towards the direction of stylist who had been watching the two of you with a teasing smile—ah young love!

Before you fully go, you turn back to give him a peck on the cheek.

“I’ll send a picture when it’s done.”

“You better.”

“Bye bye fuzzy head,” you giggle before rushing to your seat.

He breaths in, lips a thin line—at least you didn’t refer to him “pipe cleaner head”.

--------

“Y/N! Did you really save my contact as ‘fuzzy pipe cleaner boi’?!?”

“...ummmmm…”

[tinydefector]

I do not know if you have ever thought about it, but listen! Last night I came up with a funny idea where Nadia and her friend decided to have fun and did a survey among bots. who do they think they would fuck that night and obviously almost all the bots have chosen our favorite ambassador. I would be interested to see the ambassador's reaction to this prank from Nadia😁良い一日を。💕

Pay back-Human affects

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: pin-up photoshoot, mentioned nudity, thirsting, unhinged behaviour.

Prev

Masterlist

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Is it nearly 1am, yes, but I wanted to finish this piece because it was written with the last part, but I wanted it to split it for these requests.

Ask and request are open

________

The Ambassador sat with the three surfing what was essentially the cybertronian version of Twitter, Tumblr and Reddit all in one, laughing and reading the post.

"Ooo, this one's juicy!" Nadia crowed, shoving her datapad in the Ambassador's face, making them read through yet another raunchy post.

DockDawg66: "Primus, you guys, have you SEEN our Ambass? The way their hips sway when they walk...I just wanna toss 'em in my cab and take 'em for a spin, if you catch my drift! That soft little organic is begging for a spike the size of their torso. Bet I could make 'em sing."

The whole crew roared with laughter as the Ambassador snatched the pad, face heated in embarrassment, they were aware that some of the bots on ship had a thing for them but this, this was not what they had expected they literally had a full forum dedicated to them.

"Have you no shame, you pervs?" They huff out while pressing a hand to their forehead. Millian scanned down their notes with a smirk. " it seems you've got a bit of a fanclub, chief. Check out 'Ambass_Admirer' tag

'I just wanna rub my plating all over that smooth flesh...make 'em squeal.' They go on like that for paragraphs, it's a riot."

The Ambassador rolled their eyes good-naturedly as their motley human crew dissolved once more into giggles at the bots' oh-so-secret desires. Their jaw nearly drops as the crew scrolls through even more posts. "Fucking hell! How many of these are there!?!?"

"Seriously, it's like every other bot's got the hots for you!" Millian snorted, scrolling furiously. Nadia nudged them with a wicked smirk. "We should totally roast these pervs. Post looking for 'hot single bots' - bet their inboxes would explode!"

Millian cackled, adding fuel. "Ooh, or you could play hard to get! anyone feel like earning a private photoshoot?' Their circuits would short for sure!"

Ambassador's could feel the colour nearly draining from them with the continued bullying and jokes from the three. As for feeding such flames... Well, a little harmless teasing did feel justified, if they wanted to be fiends what was stopping the Liaison from being one back.

"Alright you hooligans, enough scheming for one night." They chuckled. That's when Taylor speaks up. " you know we could do a bit of a spicy photoshoot, kinda like only Fans make some money of horny bots," she hums while leaning over the Ambassador's shoulder. "Taylor!" The Ambassador sputtered with embarrassment and shock.

"Now there's an idea..." Millian mused, eyeing their boss. Money could go far in this ragtag outpost, and fleecing horny mechs of their shanix just felt poetic.

"Alright you lunatics, I will play along. But first-" They turned to Taylor with a stern look. "Ground rules. Nothing goes public without my say-so, got it? I don't need an invasion of metal pervs in my room!"

They three nearly squeal in delight over the go ahead. "So how far are we going to go with this boss, just some light stuff like you laying on a bed or what?" Millian asked. The three are already scheming ways to do decent photos.

"Oh, oh I have a camera somewhere"

"So... I may have been able to talk One First aid into giving me Ratchet's old servos from before we ended up on ship. Don't ask how" one of the others stated.

The Ambassador rubbed their temples, already regretting this scheme but far too amused to back out now.

"Alright, you loons - nothing explicit, got it? I'm not getting Naked for anyone, Classy pin-up style shots fine, some saucy photos sure but that only." They start laying out ground rules for the three,despite being their boss, they were also friends and they did want to enjoy some letting loose. "And I suppose props could...add a dash of naughty flair, but if we are doing this you guys act professional, don't make weird comments."

As the crew dove into planning, they shook their heads fondly. "We'll start simple - you lounging in 'sexy' clothes, maybe leaning on those servos. Gauge how you feel, then amp it up gradually if you feel comfortable."

"And I get 30% of all earnings!" The Liaison called after them as they scramble to grab what they can for the shoot.

Both Millian and Taylor carted in the servos on a trolley, the ambassador was almost impressed but decided to keep their questions to themself, not really wanting to know how they got ahold of severed cybertronian hands. The three are trying to figure out where to start and what the ambassador should wear.

"I swear if Kyle, David or Daniel find out about this I'm putting all three of you on cleaning duty for forever." The Ambassador threatens them, hands on hips, eyeing the bustling preparations with mingled amusement and trepidation. What had they unleashed upon this ship?

"Boss, take a look, scored this silky robe that's sure to drive 'em wild!" Nadia called, holding up the item in question with a smirk.

Millian hauled over a plush bed adorned with soft blankets and pillows from over in the corner Of their room. "Lay back here while Taylor and I do a test shoot, just want to try and set up lightly."

They move to lay on the bed, trying to get comfortable and move things until they feel right. Millian snaps a few pics before the Liaison stands back up looking at the box of clothing.

Nadia and Taylor begin moving the Servos trying to get them set up as close to the bed as possible. “I'm so glad these are holo on the inside, they are Heavy enough” Taylor huffs out and the move and curl the digits.

The Ambassador looks at the different clothing and fabrics with a raised eyebrow. "Do I want to know where you guys got all of this?" They ask. The three just give mischievous looks.

They let out a sigh. "We will start off with something like this, then you lot can play dress ups with me, Christ never knew you three were this much of a nightmare"

"Alright you troublemakers, out with you while I change," they chide their over-eager crew, shooing them from the room with a laugh. Once alone, they unfurl the silky robe reverently, resting it on the bed before peeling off their uniform. Neatly piling it together. They rummage through the other clothing grabbing out a rather nice looking set of underwear before dragging luxurious sheen robe over their shoulders.

They move over to Millian's set before calling out to them. "I'm changed, you can come back in" they call out. Millian's head popped in, eyes widening at the vision before them. "Boss, you clean up nice!" They let out a low whistle.

The liaison's eyes trace over the large Servos on the ground with a pile of pillows and blankets set between them. "So how are we doing this?" They ask. Nadia and Taylor piled in behind, stopping in their tracks at the enticing sight. The Ambassador lounged lazily amid plush bedding, silhouetted seductively against the soft lights. Those mighty metal servos loomed ominously close.

Taylor shook off her daze first. "Lay back and get comfy. We'll start with some innocent stuff - just look smouldering while you toy with the fabric." With that the three moved around getting lights set so they had the height for the photos. “I'm starting to get suspicious on why you guys have all of this equipment in here Millian.” They call out only for them to wave the accusation off. “Eh I do photos for Nadia on occasions”

"Alright, lay back against those pillows- yeah, just like that. Now arch your back a little and tilt your chin up," Nadia instructed eagerly, moving a few pillows into a good position, Ambassador's gaze up with eyes half lidded. “I feel so stupid doing this!” They call out which makes the others laugh. “Ahh don't worry, last time Nadia did a shoot she nearly lost the bikini top she was wearing because it got caught. Spend ten minutes trying to not have to cut it off” Taylor informed.

“Yea I didn't want to wreck one of my favourites!”

Millian gave a low whistle. "You're doing great, I promise the more you laugh the less awkward it is. Now trail one hand slowly down your chest while the other grips the robe's lapel." Taylor surveyed their work, making subtle adjustments here and there.

"You two- move that big metal hand like it's gently cupping their waist." The crew buzzed around their model putting touches in place. Each minute adjustment drew out as they chatted away about random stuff while doing the photos, it helped them not feel so awkward about doing the photos.

"Alright, I think we've got our money shot," Millian declared at last, snapping one final smouldering image. The shutter clicked rapidly as they tested angles, coaxing out new provocative poses little by little. They stand back up, wrapping the robe around themself as they walk over to Millian. " Can I see the photos? They were rather excited, this wasn't something they normally did, but the three were actually rather professional with it.

The group looked at the photos as Millian slowly flicked through the collection showing off the collection along with some of the more silly ones they took to help ease the tension. The silky robe clung to curves in all the right places, every inch of exposed flesh looked as if it glowed. Bedroom eyes beckoned from heavy lids, lips parted as if panting from passion's heights recently scaled. One hand grasped the large metal hand.

"Holy shit, you really got me good!" They breathed, awed by photos that the three had helped craft. Nadia gave a devilish grin. "Just wait till the boys get an eyeful. They won't know whether to rub one out or combust on the spot!"

Laughter spilled forth from them as Millian begins transferring them over to their data pad. “this was fun, I can see why you enjoy doing it Nadia, I haven't felt this..”

“Beautiful?”

“handsome?”

"Desirable?”

The three state one after another which gets a head shake from the Liaison. “Yes, “ They admit.

"Also how exactly are we going to be posting these photos?" Inquiry, the were feeling rather daring now and wanted to have input on the posting.

They ushered the others close, datapad in hand. "Here's what we'll do- I've got an anonymous account on one of those seedy Commlink forums the bots love. You know, the one where they all drool over flesh?"

Nadia snorted. "Oh yeah, the 'Human Fucker' board. Classy place."

Millian ignored her, pulling up the photos. "I'll post just one crop out whatever you want for your comfort - the money shot where your hand is gripping that servo. Caption will be 'Look who I've got...' nothing else."

“don't crop it post the full thing, I like it and well they want to play with fire this is what happens” the Ambassador hums which makes Taylor cackled, rubbing her hands together. "Mark my words, those mechs will be tripping over themselves trying to claim the 'lucky bot' title," Millian promised gleefully.

Commlink forum: human fucker.

Ambass_Admirer pin.

Tin_Bin25: 'Look who I've got.'

a photo of a bots servos cupped partly around a human in a Satin robe looking rather Ravished, smiling up while their robe is hanging off their shoulder showing off a rather scandalous amount of skin.

Overcharger69: Holy frag is that the Ambass? Lucky slagger, frag what a fine piece!!!

T-Wrexz: No way!. Someone Fragging did it. They got with a Fleshie!

Rev-Rid3: some lucky mech sampled fleshy friction and got the dream...

Flyboi69: : FRAG THIS WHO CARES WHO FRAGGED THEM I JUST WANNA KNOW IF THEY'RE AS SOFT AS THEY LOOK!!!!

ScienceSorcerer: My oh my, what scandalous treasures, do share more with the class! For historical and scientific purposes, of course.

Oiler69: No way, you can't just Post that! Do you have more, Post em up already, need more Proof!

_Heavyhaul: Hey, hey, keep it in your panel's mechs. That photo wasn't released with their consent, it's not cool.

Tin_Bin25: Here is another.

It's a new photo showing the Ambassador lying back against pillows in a low cut silk robe, one hand trailing lazily across their collar while the other grips a metal servo their face pressed against one of the digits as they kiss it, gazing at the camera with hooded eyes

How's that for proof, sceptic? I've got permission for their personal photoshoot, even let me post without hiding their face. Bet your spikes would glitch seeing them like this in person.

Scope_ridge: *venting noises* Frag me sideways, they look good enough to eat! This is officially the best solar cycle ever.

Bar-rizzla: Why, they positively glow with sensuality! One can only imagine the debauchery that inspired such provocative portraits.

StarFielder: Seriously, does anyone have any idea who the lucky mech was? Gotta be someone important...

WPHAS-violation: my Shanix is on it being an officer right? Bet it was Magnus!, rather tasteful compared to the stuff I make.

Con_Spiracy: got me wonderin' - think any other bots have been sampling alien delights?

SunRunner: Whoa, hold up- you've got a whole collection? Heater's firing up over here! *fans self jokingly*

Pimptheride: Hey mech, wanna pass those images over? How much you asking for?

Bar-rizzla: I've got enough engex to trade for a peek! C'mon Tin, help a bot out with his late night activities...

_________

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[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

hi! could you maybe write reader x sleep token and how they met?

ps. i love all your works!! 🫶

Thank you for your kind words lovie🤍✨

Vessel

He’s a pretty calm, not at all in-your-face kind of guy. No longer big on parties and going out so his bubble of meeting new people had shrunk. So I think you two would meet at an odd space. Like a grocery store. Late at night. Not too long since it would have to close. He would be out to buy a snack after playing video games with the boys. Loving the quiet aura of the store so late.

That’s until he hears light curses. Stopping ever so slightly. They aren’t loud but the person is not enjoying the late night shop as much as he was. A part of Vessel just wants to turn and go check out. But another part is urging him to round the corner and at least catch a glimpse as to what’s going on.

That’s when he sees you, practically climbing the shelf as you try to reach a box of instant noodles. Usually, Vessel walks past things like this but no one is there to help, and the fact that the shelf wobbles slightly has him reaching his hand out to steady the construction. You jump back instantly, the tall frame lurking over you. But then you’re met with the most beautiful blue eyes. “You need a hand?”, his voice is horse since he practically talked to no one the whole day.

You nod, backing away. “If you don’t mind”, you mutter, “I swear the owner put them higher on purpose”. Vessel simply reached out. The top shelf did not give him any trouble as he grabbed the noodles, offering them to you. “Would be extremely rude if he did”, he mused, letting his eyes drift back to your frame. The messy bun. The oversized hoodie. “Guess you’re my knight in shining armor, huh”, chuckling slightly, you extended your hand towards him, “Y/n”. “Vess”, he chimed in, his much bigger palm drowning your hand.

“Do you want some noodles?”, you asked, watching him frown slightly, “Now?”, surely you weren’t inviting him into your home at midnight of the night. “I could be a serial killer you know?”, he stated, raising his eyebrows. “Well, a beautiful death I would die”, you shrugged. “Reach for one more pack, I will treat you to pot noodles Y/n style”. And the rest was history.

III

No, I just can’t get over this man in vintage fairs and shit. I can’t. I will die on this hill. So in my mind, you meet at a little thrift shop open fair thingy. He often goes or more like goes as often as his schedule allows him but he has his favorite sellers and they have some decent pieces.

He’s off to his favorite spot when he sees you standing next to the stand. Looking over a vintage player. The green case glistening in the sun. “One thousand and I won’t go lower”, the guy shrugs. iii watches your face fall as you shake your head. “Come on now, Garry, you’re ripping the girl off”, iii cuts in, making you glance his way and fuck if you’re not the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. “You and I both know that shit doesn’t even work”, he crosses his hands over his chest making Garry frown. “You’re out for my throat today lad”, the old man grunted, “I won’t go lower than six hundred”.

“Deal”, iii shakes on it. “Hey, I saw that first”, you huff, “And I’m also willing to pay six hundred, make it six fifty”, you cross your hands over your chest. “The lady is playing fair”, Garry rubbed his palms. “Six seventy and I’m buying it for you, sweetheart, so don’t make the dent in my wallet even bigger”, iii mused before winking your way, leaving you standing there speechless.

ii

Yeah, you got the guy distracted through the entirety of the show. Never had he been so entranced with someone in the crowd. He caught a glimpse of you before the show had even started. Standing alone by the barricades as you gazed at the stage. It was the fact that you had no phone on you maybe. Just there to sway to the beats of the music. Maybe the fact that you knew most drum parts by heart it seemed as if you taped against the metal with your fingers.

So there wasn’t even a question as he leaned over the edge to hand his drumstick to you. You watched him in surprise, clearly not believing that he would do that. Almost immediately turning to give one of them to the girl next to you. “Not this one”, ii cut in, stopping you from giving the one with a paper wrapped around it, “This one is for you only”. He could see your cheeks getting bright red even in the dim light.

“You’re a fucking awesome drummer”, you shouted over the crowd. “And you’re really pretty”, he winked, “don’t loose that”, he pointed to the paper before jumping back on stage. You kept your hand wrapped around it till you walked out of the stadium, gasping when you saw a phone number scribbled there.

Ivy

Look, he might be all cool and sassy but this guy ain’t that forward when it comes to girls. He was always shy and man did he hate making the first move. Not that his schedule left much space for casual dating. “Nice bike”, Ivy turned his head to the sound of the voice behind him. Glad he was sat and with a helmet on because he would have been red as a beet. “Ah, thanks?”, he muttered, pulling the visor up. He had stopped by a local bookstore to buy iii his birthday gift. “Sorry, it’s probably so strange but I just saw you and I like bikes and…”, you rambled on, “No, actually forget it, I look stupid”, you clasped a hand over your face before turning away from him.

Ivy watched you for a moment before shouting, “Hey, hold up, you want to go for a ride?”, the words had left his mouth before he had even realized it. But one thing was clear he didn’t regret it. “You don’t have to”, you shook your head, “Don’t need no pity ride”.

“I actually never backpacked with anyone”, Ivy shrugged, “It might be fun”. You blinked slowly, “Are you being serious?”, “I don’t have a helmet on me now but we can meet up tomorrow?”, he suggested, “A sunset ride?” You couldn’t hide the smile any longer, “I would love that”. You couldn’t really see his face but from the way his eyes glistened you could assume he was smiling. “Give me your phone and I will pick you up”, he offered and once again the rest was history.

[notintattooine]

if only for a night

pairing: padmé amidala x anakin skywalker x fem!reader 

warnings: 18+, polyamorous relationship, sexual content (ffm). not proofread bc i overthink <3

a/n: this was shorter and sluttier than intended...i actually took months to finish this....anyway!!! enjoy!!!!<3

inspo credits to @bimbo-baggins17 <3 you made me realize i could absolutely post this :)

the gilded elegance of the senate meeting room felt like a dramatic contrast to the sterile meeting areas the council seemed to favor. you’d been trying to focus on anything but the ethereal beauty of the woman in front of you, senator padmé amidala. she was really impressive…… with a wonderful taste in windows, you thought to yourself. you’d (really) tried your best to listen to the discussion occurring but found yourself drifting into a daydream. finally, master windu suggested beginning preparing a celebration that was to be thrown later. you’d practically shot out of your seat- anything to regain the sense of control you 're supposed to have instilled into your being. (maybe that’s why you and anakin got along so well) 

of course the jedi goodbyes had begun, pleasantries engaged back and forth until obi wan finally put you out of your misery. accomplishing this by dragging you and anakin out, or (rather) trying to persuade the two of you to join in. padmé was talking about the celebration as she finally made her way over to the three of you, catching you first.

“and y/n, you’ll be there?” her voice had a slight hopefulness to it as her soft amber eyes met yours. “you’ll join anakin and me, won’t you?” the last part was low enough for only your ears to catch as she grazed her forearm against yours. her perfectly glossed lips pressed up into a smile as she placed her hand on the small of your back to lead you toward anakin. it was as if she’d electrocuted you, excitement trickled through every nerve in your body as you approached. 

anakin’s gaze shifted to something less friendly and more…playful as you two approached. his grin widened and his body language softened, welcoming you and padmé into his personal space. “we were hoping you’d join us?” 

“oh- of course” you managed to get out, flustered by the attention from the hottest couple in the galaxy. “i would love to.” 

-

“you’ll join anakin and me, won’t you?” padmé’s question had gripped your mind since it left her  lips. would you join them? it was risky, taboo, maybe even wrong. of course you would.

your mind seemed to be elsewhere while you laid out a dress from your closet, running your fingers along the silky fabric. deciding to put it on, slipping it onto your figure, you turned to the mirror. a smile crept upon your face as you admired the dress and its delicately embroidered lace details. it was rather flattering in the way it ruched and flowed in all the right places- it had been a birthday gift from padmé years ago. the color matched the sea foam green waters of naboo and brought fond memories of your youth along with it. fleeting moments of confessions in castle corridors and years of forbidden longing. 

-

you’d managed to make it to the celebration, eyes scanning the crowd of jedi for a set of more familiar faces. as you did, a metallic hand placed itself on your lower back. anakin smiled down at you, eyes traveling over your body.

“care to grab a drink?” his signature smile graced his face. “padmé will be here soon.”

you followed him to the bar, his hand sitting comfortably on your waist. you took a seat next to him before he ordered.

“two of my usuals.” he smiled, holding up two fingers. “thank you.”

you shrugged as the drinks arrived, hoping his taste in alcohol was as decent as his taste in women. you held the glass up to your lips before taking a sip.

you grimaced “oh stars-  anakin, what was that…. jet juice?”  his lips upturned in amusement. “not a fan?” he mused, wiping at the droplet that fell from your lip. 

“anakin, stop tormenting the poor girl,” padmé’s amused voice called as she approached, her figure resting gently against the bar counter. “you’ll scare her away.” 

-

“you sure?” padmé asked again as anakin’s teeth grazed your collarbone, intrusive thoughts winning as he sunk his teeth into the flesh. eliciting a yelp from you, swallowed by padmé’s kiss.

“never been so sure about anything.” you pulled back mumbling against her lips. switching to suck slightly on her bottom lip as you reconnected. 

anakin’s deft fingers slipped under your dress straps, urging it off. he gawked for a second, marveling at the sight of your nipples hardening against the cool air mixed with the aching in your core. mischief crossed his face as he attached himself to one of the nubs, licking a stripe then biting and repeating. your hands were searching for his hair as padmé slipped her tongue into your mouth. anakin tugged at the perked flesh, eliciting a moan that was straight of a holopad midnight porno from your lips. desperate for relief, your hips bucked, getting the message, anakin shoved his knee between your legs to part them. staring at you like he was going to consume you, he used his metal arm to bunch your dress up to your stomach, his fingers lightly grazing over the soaked fabric of your panties. 

“oh padmé, come look at this.” anakin grinned, looking at his wife. “she’s fucking soaked.” 

padmé smiled widely, “we’ll take care of you, y/n. won’t we ani?” anakin nodded in agreement. 

before you knew it padmé had her hips positioned over your face, your mouth watering at the sight. anakin aligned himself with your dripping sex, reaching to grip your hips as he began to sink his length in. holy shit. you could die right here right now. whining almost pathetically as he sunk in, your mind went blank only brought back to reality when you remembered the brunette above you. padmé let out a shaky moan as your breath fanned on her pussy. without warning you began, licking a fat stripe from her clit to her entrance and back. 

“maker mae, you taste fucking divine.” you mumbled into her, flattening and curling your tongue as she began rocking her hips. 

anakin watched, his dick growing impossibly harder at the sight of you devouring his wife. he removed a hand from your hips to rub your clit, to prepare he brought his fingers to padmé’s lips to wet them. you involuntarily clenched when you heard her mouth release his fingers with a pop. the mental image of what you heard was enough to make your eyes roll. anakin had set a brutal pace after entering you, the squelching of how wet you were would be embarrassing if you didn’t feel so wanted.

“oh she liked that.” anakin chuckled, shooting padmé a cocky grin. “gripping me like a fucking vice.” 

padmé’s grip on your hair combined with anakin’s grip on your hips had you reeling, no wet dream or dirty fantasy could amount to the real thing. you’d gotten off to the fantasy more times than you could count. you were here, padmé’s wetness dripping down your chin and anakin’s dick so far in you, your brain hurt. 

you worked at padmé’s pussy, sucking on her puffed clit before tongue fucking her and repeating. she was on the brink of tears with how fucking close she was, all she wanted was to see you fall apart on anakin. 

“y/n.” she warned, “y/n im close,” her hips were slowing but she was trying. you moved your hands to her thighs, bringing her impossibly closer to your mouth. moans from how close anakin had you were spilling into her. 

“me too.” you mumbled, nose bumping her clit over and over. with a cry she came, releasing on your tongue. you let her ride it out, peppering kisses to her thighs. 

anakin was fully slamming in and out of you, the heaviness of his balls, slapping against your pussy. you had your nails dug into padmé’s thighs, still lapping at her when your orgasm hit you. white hot pleasure sent you collapsing into the bed, completely limp as anakin fucked you through it. 

as you recovered, padmé held your face in her hands, peppering kisses against your face. anakin sighed, breaking you out of your haze. he was still painfully hard, his tip angry and leaking.

“oh ani.” you sighed, rolling over onto your stomach, “should we help him?” you turned to padmé. she grinned, gripping his length in her hand, looking towards you.

“spit on it.” she said, “please y/n.” anakin answered , looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows and eyes watering. who were you to deny him?

with a grin, you spit into padme’s hand, before lowering yourself to play with his balls. with a smile graced upon your swollen lips you grinned up at him. he looked ethereal, his curly brunette hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and his lip pulled between his teeth. padme worked his cock.

"switch" he panted, "want to fuck your face." he grabbed your chin.

with your pupils blown and drool pooling in your mouth, you obliged. you relaxed your throat the best you could, gagging as you tried to take all of him. he make a makeshift ponytail with your hair, his balls slapping your face as he fucked your throat. his hips started to stutter as padmé kissed him, the lewd noises of their makeout make your thighs clench together. you pulled out all the stops, gagging, drooling and moaning all around him. you knew you had him when he pushed you to the base of his cock, the coarse hairs tickling your face. he came with a cry, spilling down your throat.

you eased off him, resting back on your heels to take a second to catch your breath. padmé pulled you up to her, "you gonna share?" holy fuck, of course you would. you tapped her cheek signaling for her to open up before making a show of spitting his cum into her mouth.

anakin growled. his eyes wide and his mouth agape. he really was the chosen one. as if it couldn’t get any better, padmè lowered her face back to yours spitting it into your mouth. “swallow.” she said, hand gripping your chin.

anakin pulled you into them until you were a pile of limbs, soft kisses being peppered along your skin. “you were great baby.” he said, nuzzling his face into your neck. “so good for us.” padmé agreed, kissing the tip of your nose.

it was nice to be theirs, if only for a night.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Ransom Drysdale

Summary: Ransom is approached with an offer that could keep his family off his trail.

A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Previous

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Another night, another "date" that went nowhere. Sure he's only looking for a quick hookup, but he's still got standards! He sighs tiredly into his second bottle of beer.

Ransom's been pulling himself away from you, for your safety, and it's been making him more and more miserable. He's been getting short with people at work again. The D&D group has been helpful, but even then, it's just not enough. He misses you but he's gotta build that wall between you. At least until he can get his head on straight. And a big part of that is finding some outlet for his sexual frustration.

But the dates all boring, just interested in a free meal, not even decent at conversation. What the hell happened to him? When did he actually start to give a damn about substance? He just needs someone to fuck, not get married to! Why couldn't he just grin, bear it and get them in bed?

Because they're not Bubbles, he thinks. That thought makes him freeze and he's tempted to smack some sense into himself. He's been struggling, fighting that little judgmental voice that points out how each date falls short of being you. He's scared of what it means. He won't drag you down with him. You deserve better.

His musings are disrupted when someone sits across from him. Ransom looks up and is only partially surprised to see Nick.

"Hello, Hugh."

"That's not my name," Ransom spits. "You've got the wrong person."

"So good at lying you've even managed to convince that sweet thing that you're becoming a good guy," Nick taunts, making Ransom grip his beer bottle tighter.

"I'm not who you're looking for," Ransom says through gritted teeth, not meeting Nick's gaze.

"We both know that ain't true," Nick smirks. "I was hired by your mother, Linda Drysdale, to find her son. She's paid good money to get information on you. I've got your name, your work location, even your home address."

"So I should call the police because you've been stalking me?"

"You have no idea how much of this information is public knowledge."

"Why haven't you given Linda the information?"

"Short answer: because she's a bitch." Ransom guffaws at that. "Long answer, I can understand why you'd want to go 'no contact' with that viper pit you call a family. I'm not that coldhearted. But, your mom is paying me quite a bit of money, and I do like happy customers not demanding their money back."

"Again, I'm not the person you were hired to look for," Ransom reiterates as Nick rolls his eyes. "But what's the price of you not telling these strangers about me?"

"Simply put, a date with your friend from New Year's," Nick shrugs. "She's cute, sweet. Way to bubbly for someone like you."

"She's not for sale," Ransom seethes.

"Agreed. She's an independent, pretty woman who deserves to be treated like a queen. She also seems the loyal type. You tell her one date with me and you're free from your family, I'm sure she'll agree to the terms."

Ransom slams a fist on the table. "Don't fucking talk about her like that!"

"Like what? That she's practically an angel, especially for befriending an asshole like you? I looked into your past, Hugh. Not pretty."

"And yours is better?"

"Yes," Nick states. "Not only that, but how do you think she'll feel when she finds out you've been ditching her for dates with bimbos in search of a quick hookup?" Ransom bristles making Nick chuckle. "Just ask her. I'm sure she'll be very open to helping out her friend."

With that, Nick leaves the bar, letting Ransom stew in his thoughts.

You look around the break room, trying to find Ransom. He's been working a lot lately, apparently. He said he's been dealing with a big project. At least his D&D group seems to be going well. His schedule has a lot of meetings with them. You're happy he's making friends but still, you miss him.

At least he's been keeping up with your gift exchange. Just a small gift here and there. Always small, for financial reasons, but always meaningful. He really does listen to you better than anyone else.

It's your turn for the exchange so you opt to go see Ransom at his desk, get at least a little time with him. On your way you bump into Jake.

"Oh, hi!" he smiles. He's always so friendly, but he notices you look...off. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just...kinda missing Ransom," you confess. "I'm glad that you guys are getting along, that the D&D group is good for him but you meet up so often I barely get to see him anymore."

Jake's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What do you mean? Is every other week too often? We can try for less, but I dunno if---"

"What?" you whimper, cutting him off. Your blood goes cold and your vision blurs with tears.

"Hey, what's going on? What's wrong?" Jake asks, trying to be calm.

"I need to go home," you sob. You hand him the gift for Ransom and head to your cubicle to clock out early.

Back in the IT Department, Jake approaches Ransom's desk.

"Hey, um, is everything...um..." Jake falters.

"What is it?" Ransom spits.

"Why are you lying to Bubbles?"

Ransom's face contorts from annoyance to rage and fear. "What are you saying?"

"I ran into her on my way to get some coffee, she had this for you," Jake puts the gift on Ransom's desk. "And she said you've been hanging out with the D&D group so much you never have time for her." Ransom's eyes go wide. "I didn't realize you've been using us to cover for doing something else and told her the actual schedule."

"Shit," Ransom mutters as he facepalms.

"What's going on, Ransom?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Ransom seethes.

"Okay, emotions are high right now, I get that. When you're ready, I'll be here to listen."

But will she? Ransom worries.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @lokislady82; @thiquefunlover63

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

science experiment is my new favorite, dear lord it’s incredible

"We might have a problem, Alfie," Dick sing-songed as he leaned against the wall where Alfred was making sure the outdoor shenanigans that were serving as "training" today didn't get out of hand.

The butler glanced up to where Jason kept watching you, almost hovering near you. But trying to make it look like he wasn't. "So far as I'm concerned, it looks like the opposite of a problem."

"Maybe," Dick mused.

"How much did he see? Last night, I mean?"

"The aftermath," Dick sighed. "Mud, blood, tears, and snot."

"Oh dear," he tutted. "Master Bruce told me that he found Jason tending to the wounds on her hands and feet this morning. And that he seemed... almost like his old self."

Dick nodded to where you'd made your way over to Cass, the newest addition and offered to be on her "team". Cass wasn't a big talker- she could hardly speak at all- but. Thanks to your empathic quirk, neither of you really needed to talk to team up. And it hadn't taken Cass long to figure that out. OR to figure out that you were physically not very durable. Still. The smiles and the fist bump said it all. "Do we have extra hydration packs on hand?" he asked.

"Always," Alfred said. Reasonably, no one expected you to participate. And no one pulled punches when you did. But- watching you laugh with the other girls when Dick jogged over to even it up properly... well. Maybe, you could get a couple nights of decent sleep.

Bruce strode out onto the lawn and dropped into a chair with a grunt. "How's it going?" he asked.

"Swimmingly," Alfred said, pouring cold drinks and making sure that yours had the specific blend of things that had been prescribed to you in your bottle. "Miss Y/N and Miss Cassandra have been working out some things they can utilize in the field and the others have been enjoying creating chaos to facilitate that."

"Hn."

"And Jason has been hovering like a mother hen," Alfred chuckled.

"So much for not having a crush," Bruce hummed. "How is Y/N holding up?"

"Tiring out, I think. But they've been doing what they can to keep her from having to over-exert herself- after all. It's not like we need to know what the upper limits are."

"Fair-" But before he can finish asking for specifics, you waver on your feet halfway through a strategy you'd been working out with Cass. But before you crumple, Jason is right behind you. Picking you up against his chest.

His face burning as he murmured something against your flustered protests. You radiated flustered embarrassment. And he deposited you in a chair carefully. "It probably would have worked," he muttered, "Dick and Steph talk too much."

You nod and accept the proffered water bottle awkwardly and take a drink, "Thanks."

"What were you trying to do?" Bruce asked? He hadn't SEEN Cass, but that didn't mean anything.

"Lead her into the best position for a sneak attack using my location with emotional resonance... since I can make the people feel things we were playing hot and cold. So I was picking up on where she was and kinda leading her to where she needed to be as we were wandering around."

"Hn." Bruce nodded. Considering that. He'd THOUGHT about using that as a strategy before. You did possess the ability to hone in on people you knew well-

"You okay?" Jason asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"Fine," you murmur, rolling your water bottle between your hands and looking down. Taking a few deep breaths to shove all your emotions back under control as the others lope back up from the grass for drinks and snacks. Cass sat on the arm of your chair and thudded her head gently on your shoulder. Smiling a little when you lean your head on hers.

Bruce watches the little exchange with bemusement and nods to himself. It made sense. Cass had few words and you could make yourself understood without it. But0 he did wonder, as he watched Jason watch it all happen, how he felt about it.

[ninzied]

and patience, and pining

in which alex is determined to flirt so hard that henry can no longer resist him. a modern au. based on the prompt: surprise kiss/impulsive kiss. ~1.8k.

Between the two of them, Alex has always thought he’d be the one to cave first.

They’ve both arrived at the same time. Henry looks stupid-good in his well-fitted tuxedo. His hair is just over-styled enough that Alex wants to mess it up, and badly.

How one man can be so like this is frankly upsetting. No, scratch that; it’s illegal, is what it is. Criminal law is not Alex’s domain, but he’s pretty sure being this tempting in public is a certifiable offense.

“Alex,” says Henry, and he blinks, at least some sense returning to him.

“Right,” he says. “Shall we?”

Henry gives him a look like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet, which, the reception is not even open bar, so Alex can’t say he disagrees.

“After you, Your Majesty,” he says, stepping from the door with a flourish, then, “I saw that.”

“Saw what?” asks Henry, already shouldering past him with his chin turned up.

“If I had a dollar for every time you rolled your eyes at me—”

“Good taste still can’t be bought, Alex.”

“That’s ironic,” Alex shoots back, smiling and nodding at one of the guests as they enter. “Considering my tie is way better than yours.”

Henry lifts his hand at another in greeting, and even his wave looks fucking majestic, the asshole. “I trust you’ll be at least somewhat behaved this evening?”

“You sure that’s what you want, sweetheart?”

Henry’s expression turns very dour, and Alex wonders, not for the first time, why that particular look on him makes Alex so crazy. The more severe Henry gets, the wilder Alex’s impulse to kiss him, and the urge to just give in.

Alex licks his lips.

Henry takes a cautionary step back. “Let’s do try to make it through the rest of the night without much carnage, yes?”

“I don’t know,” Alex muses. “When you threaten me with a good time like that…”

Henry mutters something under his breath and Alex can’t help but grin. Maybe the night holds some promise after all.

.

He decides he’s going to have to walk that back after a while.

The music is decent, and he was wrong about the open bar, thank God, but he’s barely seen Henry since some crusty-looking Wall Street types whisked him and Pez away to talk business, and Alex is bored.

He wants to dance. He wants to dance—with Henry. And because that’s not going to happen, Alex wants to do the next best thing, which is to dance while Henry pretends not to watch, but he’s not even facing the dance floor right now so there would be no fucking point. He’ll have to think of something else. Hmmm.

Nora shimmies up to him then with two new flutes of champagne. Bless. “Still pining?” she asks.

Alex whips around to glare at her, wounded. “What? Nora, no,” he says. Is it that obvious? Fuck.

Nora shrugs. “You do the thing where you look him when you think he won’t notice. Both of you. You guys kind of have it down to a science.”

Alex brightens immediately. “You’ve seen him looking at me?”

Nora sips her champagne. “Right now, for example.”

Henry looks quickly away when Alex glances over, which is as good an invitation as any in his book. One of the suits is talking at Henry, who seems about as engaged as a teapot right now. Pez has dialed up the charisma, distracting them easily from Henry’s silence. But to Alex, Henry looks downright miserable in comparison.

Well, Alex is here to do something about that.

He plucks the second flute from Nora’s hand. “You’re the best. Gotta go.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t pining?”

“For that guy?” Alex gazes at Henry again, then says, quite honestly, “Always.”

.

It takes exactly two minutes for the Wall Street guys to politely excuse themselves. Alex watches them practically dissolve their way into the crowd, like a creepy bunch of Mr. Smiths from The Matrix, and he suppresses a shudder.

The look on Henry’s face is an appealing combination of annoyed and relieved. “Let me guess,” Alex deadpans, “you’re so grateful you could just kiss me right now.”

Henry’s expression turns distinctly disapproving as Pez chimes in, “Be patient and Hazza might even learn to admit it someday.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Alex grins sideways at Henry, who’s flushing the loveliest pink despite also frowning. “You’re welcome for rescuing you from the most tedious conversation known to man, by the way.”

“Actually, darling dearest,” Pez says lightly, “we were speaking with potential investors in the foundation.”

Oh. Shit. “Do you want me to charm them back over?” Alex wants to know, jerking a thumb in the direction they’d gone. “It is well within my power.”

“Not necessary.” Henry pulls a face. “I would’ve felt dirty about taking their money.”

“I would’ve felt wonderfully about it,” says Pez. “But now that you’ve freed up my dance card…” He cranes his neck around.

“Nora’s over there,” Alex says helpfully.

“Brilliant.” Pez’s eyes are the definition of sparkling. “Ah, and I see your sister’s about to join her. If you boys will excuse me—”

He helps himself to the rest of Alex’s champagne before sashaying off.

The two of them remain standing there a careful few feet apart, not looking at each other. Not that it matters; Alex is so hyperaware of him that he could reach over without even looking and take Henry’s hand if he wanted to. He won’t, but he wants to.

Knowing that he can is enough for now.

Henry looks askance at him after a moment. “You’re making this very hard, you know.”

Alex somehow manages not to smile at that. “Am I?”

Henry’s face screws up in faux concentration. “Let’s see. You’ve been a merciless flirt, even more so than usual. You wore the tie I bought you, which means you don’t hate it—”

“What? I love it,” interrupts Alex, just to be clear.

“—and you just drove off a very lucrative, albeit morally questionable, investment opportunity.” Henry’s also holding back a smile. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to not kiss you for that alone.”

“You still could,” Alex points out.

“And lose your silly bet?” Henry straightens, adjusting his cufflinks, and that might be the single hottest thing Alex has ever seen. “I think not. We both know you’ll be the first to give in.”

It’s true, Alex thinks; he’s pretty irresistible, but Henry is also far more controlled. Still, there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that Alex gets to be the one who stretches him to his very limit. The level of restraint it takes Henry to resist him is a pretty big turn-on, if he’s being honest. Even when Henry wins, it will be no great loss on Alex’s part.

“Considering what’s at stake here,” Alex says lowly, leaning in just enough to catch the way Henry’s eyes darken, “I think I win either way.”

Henry does smile then, soft and warm and way too tempting not to kiss, though Alex perseveres. “I think we both do, darling.”

“That we can agree on,” says Alex. “So, do you want to…not…dance with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

.

He slips up, once.

It’s in a goddamn photo booth of all things, and Alex would feel like such a cliché if he weren’t so busy feeling annoyed at the fact that he can’t hold Henry’s hand or kiss him in front of the camera. Instead, he lets Nora and June wedge in between them, grinning gamely when they take turns kissing Henry on the cheek.

At the literal last second before the flash is going off, Alex feels Henry take his hand from behind, lace their fingers ever so gently together, and squeeze.

In the photo that prints out, June and Nora are doubled over in laughter, eyes closed, unaware. Henry has his chin tipped up, his face doing some smoldery thing at the camera, and Alex is turned, simply gazing at him.

He takes it before anyone sees, tucking it safely into his wallet because bet or no bet, some things really are too sacred to share.

When he shows it to Henry later, Henry gets the same lovestruck look on his face as Alex does in the photo, and that’s all he needs.

.

It’s the cake that finally does it.

Pez, Nora and June are all crowded around the same piece, and it makes Alex sigh a little wistfully to think about how much better it would taste if he were sharing his with Henry.

He can’t help it. He peers at Henry’s own slice, squinting. “What flavor is that one?”

“Strawberry,” says Henry. There’s a crumb on his lip, and Alex doesn’t mean to fixate on it, but he’s now gone hours without kissing his boyfriend and he’s kind of mad about it even though it’s also kind of his fault. “Do you want a bite?”

Oh. Yeah, that’ll work. Alex can feel the others’ eyes on them as he leans closer, fully expecting that Henry will yield to his instincts and feed him a piece off his fork. It’s not a kiss, but it could definitely qualify as losing the bet. And then once Alex has won, he can not only kiss Henry as much as he likes, he gets to take Henry home with him and—well.

He frowns when Henry only holds the plate out. “Here, have some,” says Henry, gaze lifting to his, then just a bit lower. “Oh. Hang on, you’ve got a—”

In a move that’s beyond Alex’s wildest dreams, Henry cups his jaw and kisses the side of his mouth, with just the slightest bit of tongue.

Alex grins as Henry freezes against him, realizing his mistake too late. “Thanks, baby.”

“Bollocks,” says Henry. He pulls back and sighs, licking the rest of the buttercream from his lips. “I’ve lost, haven’t I.” Then, accusingly, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you.”

“I’d say I don’t kiss and tell, but.” Alex puts his hands on Henry’s thighs, using that grip to scoot their chairs closer together. “I am gonna kiss you now, so.”

“You’ll be getting to do a lot more than that,” Henry points out.

“Ew, did not need to hear that part,” June groans at the same time that Pez puts down their cake and says, “Please, I need to hear more.”

“There’s a legally binding document and everything,” says Alex, to Henry’s chagrin and Pez’s delight. “Drafted it up myself.”

“You two were pining that hard and you were already together?” Nora wants to know. “Actually, that tracks. Carry on.”

Henry has gone as pink as the cake now, but he’s smiling when Alex swipes up some more buttercream, touching it to Henry’s mouth before leaning the rest of the way in.

[achelouise]

my love, my muse —kaveh

fandom: genshin

pairing: kaveh x reader!

a/n: i just realized i hadn’t written for kaveh, which is a crime against humanity. also kaveh x muse!reader brainrot sjzjjwjzjqjjajajajh (also switching formats, iiiiiii have no idea what im doing, can you tell)

— student!kaveh, who, even though loathed and respected his project partner to bits, would rather die than ever try to draw him for an assignment. “don’t even think about it,” he hisses, just as alhaitham quirks an unimpressed eyebrow. he understands that he has many friends and acquaintances that are willing to pose for him, but a small voice in the back of his head needles at him- telling him that no, we cannot create art with them as our muse. and to him, nothing is more important than making sure every single artwork he produces is with the utmost sincerity.

— student!kaveh, whose resolve crumbles bit after bit as the deadline creeps up, with no model to look for in sight, and is starting to think perhaps he should turn to his volunteering friends after all. he cannot compromise his diligence for his passion as a scholar, and so he heads to pupsa café, hoping to buy some coffee to prepare for his all-nighter that night.

—student!kaveh, who doesn’t even realize he’s pouting until he hears a cheery, unfamiliar voice bring it up- and he tilts his head up to find that he spilled all the coffee in his mouth onto his shirt (much to your alarm).

“you,” he gurgles, “you’re the muse i’ve been looking for!”

“excuse me?”

— perhaps he was a bit sleep-deprived, which explained his lack of inhibition, but student!kaveh latches onto you like a moth to a flame, stars swirling in his eyes. are you a student of the akademiya? which darshan are you from? which nation were you from to bless you with such beautiful eyes? could you be his muse? he asks them all, because he has to know.

— student!kaveh, who only later apologizes for his overbearing first-impression, while swearing up and down he wasn’t like that usually, and explaining his current predicament. perhaps you pitied him, or found him quite charming- whichever it was, you accepted his proposal to be his muse in exchange for some funds, much to his delight.

“thank you, thank you, oh, thank you! my assignment won’t be so lifeless after all!”

— student!kaveh, who arranges a time and place for you at his dorm with a sense of bravery he has absolutely no idea where he picked up from. when you come in with the most random set of outfit he’s ever seen, he chooses to hold back his tongue over your enthusiastic participation.

“sit tight!” he says, holding comically large canvas whose shadow swallowed up the whole room, “relax, and do whatever your heart tells you to do.”

— student!kaveh, who usually simply sketches things out of pure photographic memory, starts simple and structured for once. where would the chair go? where would you sit? would you look too stretched out if the table properties next to you weren’t matching? where should he exaggerate? how would the chandelier be hanging to get the perfect lighting? how would the painting behind you affect the composition?

— student!kaveh, who usually lets his hand dance on his canvas, plans everything out this time, and lets his mind flourish under the guidance of your radiant beauty. your soft smile, your relaxed posture, and your twinkling eyes lets him have fun- and he finds joy in drawing backgrounds, especially the furniture, for once- to emphasize the way you pose.

— student!kaveh, who drinks an ungodly amount of coffee every night and lets his sheer will do the rest, stops by in the kitchen to make you some snacks. he worries for you; “are you alright? is this posture tiring you? do you want water? i can get some for you. do you want some snacks, too? we can take a break. i don’t have much here, but i can always make a quick trip to the market.”

— student!kaveh, who finds joy in conversation with you while he works. you seem to harbor a decent amount of knowledge fitting for a scholar. if you talk about other subjects, kaveh’s more than willing to listen. if you enjoy studying architecture, that’s fine too! whatever the topic is, you both seem to have an endless stream of opinions and discussions to open up about, and watching your mouth run off on any particular topic brings him much satisfaction. it is always fascinating to understand another person deeply interested in a subject.

— student!kaveh, who starts to explore other color schemes in order to find the perfect one for you. your radiance is something that should be brought out and emphasized on his canvas, something future generations can look at and admire. maybe a bit of pink for the shadow? how about purple to shade your hair instead of gray? would yellow compliment your shoes? he thinks of them all, dabbling in this and that, until his palette blooms in different smears of colors.

— student!kaveh, who is willing to go on a rant to explain how you were the perfect muse, how your smile made his hand itch to draw it out, how your eyes crinkled and held the weight of your soul, how- oh. did he say muse? would you like to be? kaveh doesn’t mind in the slightest if you could continue to. in fact, how about he treats you to a nice meal tonight? the sun is setting, anyway, and it’ll be his way of saying thank you. (please say yes.)

— student!kaveh, who, after half an hour of deliberation on whether parting his bangs in a certain angle would make him look more presentable or not, shows up that night at the venue with a small sketchbook in his hands, telling you not to worry about it. every time your lips turn a certain way, or when the light hits your hand just right, he frantically sketches it down underneath the table, much to your confusion.

“did you enjoy the meal? hm? that? oh, it’s nothing. please, go on. you said something about how your friend could aether-edit?”

it was a pleasant time, despite him constantly dodging your questions on what in teyvat’s name he’s doing, and believing the constant rush he feels inside his head whenever you laugh is perfectly normal. you’re his muse, aren’t you? it’s only natural.

(and if the dinner spreads any rumors- well, kaveh thinks it’s normal to feel giddy, too.)

— student!kaveh, who, when looking at his graded paper days later, is pleased to know it is graded with high praise. the professor even commented on how he is finally starting to get a firm grasp on studying basic anatomy of architecture. (hmph. he thinks he was pretty good at anatomy up until then as well, but okay.) good- he’s put a lot of effort into that painting.

— student!kaveh, who insists on thanking you for the high grade again, the next time you run into each other- only this time with a bouquet of flowers, and a blush on his face.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I am absolutely in love with your writing! The way you portray our boys is just *chefs kiss*

Anywho, I was wondering if I could request poly!marauders x plus size reader? Maybe she is very confident until somebody picks on her and she starts becoming obsessed with dieting and stuff. (I'm struggling a lot with that rn) just a bunch of worry and comfort from our boys.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this or just the prompt I gave it's okay. Ily!♡

Hi, thanks for requesting my love! I'm really sorry you're struggling right now, I know how hard it can be and hope you're doing your best to take good care of yourself. You're beautiful just as you are <33

cw: size insecurity, behavior that hints at disordered eating

poly!marauders x plus size!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The worst part is, you know they weren’t even really trying to insult you. 

You smiled as best you could, said your thanks politely, and moved on. Moved on outwardly, that is. Inside, the words play over and over in your head, like a song on the radio that gets worse each time you listen to it. It wasn’t that they were vicious, or particularly clever, or even wrong. It’s just, you’re not used to people commenting on your body like that. 

You know you’re not skinny. So does everyone else. Neither of you typically feel the need to confer about it. Every now and again, some cruel busybody will say something, but that’s fairly easy to brush off. They’re insecure about their own looks, they have nothing better to do than fixate on strangers’ appearances, they’ve probably been on diet pills since they were twelve. You wish them well and mostly forget about it. But what’s worse is when someone comes to you with good intentions. The idea of being perceived as pitiful or wrong—really, having your physical form perceived at all—by someone who seems to want the best for you is what really hurts. That’s what makes you want to hide, to shrink yourself down until they can’t see you anymore. To become the invisible status quo. 

It’s why, over the last few days, anything skintight or remotely showy has been relegated to the back of your closet in favor of things that hide your figure. Why you’ve stopped drawing attention to yourself with colorful makeup and instead started focusing on your health. Well, your health as it presents itself externally. 

“Anyone else fancy a dessert?” Sirius muses as you sit reading on the couch, Remus reading the next book in the series beside you. 

“Um, no,” James says, holding up a hand of cards from the game he and Sirius have been playing, “you only want to go so you don’t have to stick around and lose.” 

“Whatever my other, subconscious motives may be,” Sirius says guilelessly, “I really feel like something chocolate. Don’t you, Moons?”

That’s always a safe bet. Remus looks up from his book, intrigued. “I could go for some chocolate.” 

Sirius grins. “What about you, gorgeous?”

That’s usually a safe bet too. But you shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I’m still full from dinner.” 

Sirius looks cheated, and Remus cocks his head at you. “Really? Didn’t seem like you ate much.” He’s not wrong. Remus had made the most incredible feta pasta, it was borderline heartbreaking to leave any on your plate. But you’re trying to practice restraint, and thankfully, James had happily taken care of your leftovers for you. “Did you have a late lunch or something?”

“Mhm.” 

James looks up, eyebrows furrow bemusedly behind his glasses. “No you didn’t, angel. You said you didn’t feel like lunch after we had breakfast together, remember?”

“Oh.” You nod. So what? You’d had a late breakfast, and a decently sized dinner, and why do you really need more than two meals anyway? Who made that rule? You’re a bit hungry, but your body just needs time to adjust to your new routine. It’s used to overindulging. And nothing about today means you deserve dessert. “Right.” 

Sirius wraps his fingers delicately around your ankle, smoothing a path up your shin with his palm. “Darling,” he says, and he looks distracted as he runs his fingers over the old scars on your knee, but you know him well enough to recognize when he’s keyed in, “did you eat anything today, other than breakfast and that little bit of dinner? Any snacks or anything?” 

You can’t help the little rush of pride that goes through you. “No.” 

Sirius doesn’t look proud. In fact, he’s frowning, as are Remus and James. You change tactics. “I’m not really hungry, though.” 

“No?” Sirius' voice is unsettlingly gentle. “Why don’t you want to have dessert tonight, pretty girl?”

“Because,” you say, beginning to feel defensive (though you’re not sure of what), “I don’t need it.” 

“It’s not about need, though,” James says, and why is it beginning to feel like you’re in an argument? “It’s about what you want. Do you want a little something sweet?”

“I…” Yes. The answer is yes, but do you want it more than you want to feel good about yourself? “I think what I want more is to prove to myself that I can go without it.” 

Remus’ scars shift as his face scrunches in concern. “Dove,” he says, and you can’t decide if his tone is more reprimand or pity. You don’t like either option. “Where is this coming from?” 

“I’m just…I’m trying something new,” you decide. “I want to lose a little weight, okay? Nothing crazy.” 

“But why?” James sets down his cards, looking completely befuddled. “Angel, you’re gorgeous. You can do whatever you want, but we love you just like you are.” 

“And,” Sirius adds before you can reply, “we love you most when you’re happy. I sort of thought,” he says, lowering his voice like he’s telling you a secret, “that our late-night treat runs made you happy. No?”

“They do.” You pull your legs up onto the couch, away from Sirius’ touch. “I just…I think it would make me happy to be a more normal size, too.” 

Remus looks gutted. “Honey, you…it’s your body, and you should do whatever feels right for you to be healthy, but…we love you like this,” he insists, ardent. “You’re beautiful, I mean it, and I hate the idea that you might want to change for…well, for anyone other than yourself.” 

You hesitate. You’re not actually sure who you’re doing this for. When had you become one of the people who want for you to be smaller so desperately? “You seriously don’t think I would look better if I were thinner?” You’ve never been one to put much stock into what any men think of your appearance, so you feel silly for asking, but you’re in a vulnerable state. And really, don’t all guys want a girl that looks like the love interests in the movies you all grew up with? 

James looks you in the eye, letting you see the earnestness in his as he says, “You’re absolutely lovely, right here, right now. We wouldn’t change a thing.” 

Your answering smile is oddly watery. Remus makes an awfully lovely cooing sound, leaning over to wrap an arm around your waist and paying no mind to the chub there as he pulls you into his side. “Don’t be upset, darling. You know what I bet will cheer you up?” He smiles as you look up at him questioningly, kissing between your brows. “Some chocolate. How would you feel about that?”

You let out a quiet little laugh. “Pretty good.” 

“Yes!” Sirius pumps his fist in the air, already abandoning his cards and standing up. “I knew you’d come through, gorgeous. Now I think the more pressing question is, do we want chocolate pastries or chocolate ice cream?”

“Ice cream, obviously,” James says. “Before it gets so cold out we don’t feel like it.” 

“Not all of us suffer from weather constraints,” Sirius argues. “I vote pastry.” 

“Why would you bring ice cream up if you didn’t want it? Think long and hard, Pads. Are you going to feel like a frozen dessert when you need three layers to go outside in a few weeks?”

Remus rolls his eyes at you as you follow them out the door, letting your boys continue their bickering all the way to the store.

[ronearoundblindly]

For your Valentine's ask game: #7 Jake Jensen x reader, idk why but it seems fitting 😂

Shut Up, Jensen, one of my Valentine's Fics for 2024!

Oh, this poor, poor, awkward perv. He's pervy until there's a naked lady around and then 😳 "...when I was four, I shoved pennies up my nose..." Seriously, boi, shut up!

Warnings for spice, i.e. a setup to smutty times, but mostly suggestive. MINORS DNI, just to be safe. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this one is not for you! WC 1042

You’ve always had a soft spot for nerds, and now, that’s translating to a damp spot on your fanciest panties you wore for this date.

Jake Jensen goofy-grinned his way through the entire evening, making you almost snort a tequila sunrise through your nose, and he never let up. The humor made you comfortable. It’s endearing to see his nervousness right on his graphic-T sleeve as opposed to being ‘manly’ and aloof.

It’s so, so refreshing to hear someone say, “I’m having a great time,” “I don’t want the night to end,” and know deep down in your bones that they mean “spending this time with you has made me happy” instead of “I’ve done enough to get laid now, right?”

Unsurprisingly, it does mean Jake’s done enough to get laid.

You give him your address so he could park his Jeep outside your building. There are parking meters, but tomorrow is Sunday when they’re free. No big deal. You left the bar (which was after the restaurant, which was after the coffee shop) a minute or two before in order to meet him at one of the open spots and walk him in. He can’t meet you at your door because there is a locked gate to your courtyard, and then a keypad for your building, and then about three corridors to navigate. It’s just easier to show him the way.

You can hear that fucking car coming a mile away.

Jake smiles and waves as he parallel parks—with extreme precision, you note—then hops out, gesturing to the meter questioningly.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrug, jumping to the edge of the curb before he steps up so you can use the height for a kiss on his cheek.

It’s adorable how flustered he gets at just that tiny bit of affection. Though it’s dark, it’s obvious he blushes ferociously, rubbing at the back of his cropped, short hair, racing to gather his thoughts.

“Did you know there are almost three hundred ways to make change for a dollar? Two hundred ninety-three to be ex—woah—“

You grab his hand to lead him inside.

At the gate, you have to pause for the magnetic lock.

“I’m surprised those things even take change anymore,” Jake muses quietly, courteous for the neighbors’ sake, “because physical money only makes up 8% today’s currency…in the whole world.” He slides past the thick steel grating. “Thank you, digital banking.”

He follows behind you in the maze of concrete paths to the next entry.

“People leave like half a million dollars worth of loose change at airport security. That’s a little shocking,” he whispers when you motion for him to take a left, “think you’d splurge for some decent toilet paper with that kind of dough, or maybe some more cup holders in those row-seats? They could, I don’t know, offset the cost of making pennies. Shit cost two cents. Is worth one. Wild…

“Meanwhile, a dime has 118 ridges on the rim of the smallest circumference.”

Doesn’t even matter what he’s saying, the more his plump pink lips move, the more insanely turned on you get. You have to crowd him through your own doorway before you start stripping in the middle of the hall.

You peel your blouse off the instant your keys clatter onto the dinette table. You spin around to grab him by the screen-printed emblem of his t-shirt.

“There are 1.4 billion $2 bills in circulation.”

He gives a little oof sound when his back hits one of your bedroom walls, and there’s a barely audible whimper as your hands snake up under soft, well-worn fabric.

Holy shit, is this boy cut!

Your thumbs actually catch on the deep ridge of his Adonis belt. Dimes got nothing on you, Jake Jensen…

His breathing has changed significantly. “Did you know they—“ he gasps and swallows “—still make those?”

Ok, why is it hotter when he’s not even trying?

“Fun fact: if you went to Zimbabwe, guess which currency you’d…use?” The neckline of his shirt has to pop over his glasses before he fixes them. “The U.S. Dollar. Seriously! Same damn mon—EH.”

His belt buckle is tricky to navigate from this angle and in the very low light of your bedside lamp. You give up on his pants to unzip your skirt at the hip and let it fall.

Jake stands perfectly still with his hands half-raised.

“You’re…really fucking pretty—sorry—really pret—sexy, not that I—but beautiful. You’re really—”

He sucks in a breath as you step within inches of him again, reaching up to carefully pull his glasses over his ears and place them by the lamp.

“Fuck…”

Your index finger tucks into the elastic of his boxers where they peek out above the belt.

“Yeah, so I’ve been—I’m—I don’t have a—what I’m trying to say is—“ he squeezes his eyes shut and wiggles his fingers higher in the air, searching for the right thought “—the most commonly printed bill is actually the one-hundr—“

“Jake,” you interrupt, gently smoothing your hands over his thick shoulders. He is so ripped, what the hell? You guess there are nerds and then there are nerds, wow…

“Do you want to continue?”

He nods super fast, eyes growing wide in panic.

“Good.”

You smash your lips to his, hauling him down and you up by the sturdy tower of muscle he is.

“Condoms are in the drawer,” you mutter between breaths.

He lets out a high, choked whine before clamping his huge, warm hands to your waist, melting into you and your touch.

You coax the both of you toward the bed, swatting at his belt as a signal for him to help, and he does, though he’s not the greatest multitasker. He huffs and smirks, breaking the kiss so he can unlatch, unbutton, and unzip.

Then he looks up at you. 

“So you like movies…?”

You cup his jaw in your hand and pinch, a gentle peck on his lips as encouragement to focus. “Less talking, more fucking, Jensen.”

He opens his mouth, clearly running through a series of replies, but thinks better of it and  pushes down his pants and boxers all at once.

Lloyd Hansen and a kiss on a place of insecurity ⬅️ ➡️ Steve Rogers and a kiss on a scar

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @peyton--warren Y'all getting sick of me yet???

[joshsilverseyebrow]

peter steele for KERRANG! Magazine (1999),

(VIA BiggestBaddestWolve ON REDDIT)

(OP has said it suffered some water damage, so i’m transcribing what i can read from the first full sentence i can make out. but i hope you still enjoy!)

THE DYING GAME

“I’m waiting for the strength to kill myself…” PETER STEELE

But, consistent with recent interviews in which he’s disparaged the album as a “waste of money,” he’s about as interested in playing his record company's hard sell games as the Pope is in the contents of Pamela Anderson's bikini. He admits that he's only here at all because “I promised the other guys (guitarist Kenny Hickey, keyboardist Josh Silver and drummer Johnny Kelly) that I'd do my job.”

Steele's apathy is all the more surprising given that “World Coming Down” is his band's most complete, cohesive and fully-realized work to date. It's also arguably the New York quartet's bleakest recording: an album which resonates with world-weary cynicism and self-loathing and sees Steele cheerlessly embracing self-destructive urges and yearning for descent into oblivion.

Given his huge appetite for sarcasm and deadpan piss-taking, the album's none-more-black atmosphere verges on goth-metal parody - but today it's disturbingly evident that Steele's current dark mood isn't just an ironic affectation.

"I FEEL like a total ingrate," he sighs, slumping his massive frame into a leather-bound armchair as we retire to the hotel bar. "I have a great life, I have my health, my family and friend; I'm not the worst-looking person in the world, I've got a half-way decent band - and yet I'm not happy. I'm just waiting for the strength to kill myself."

From other rock stars, such whinging might seem like mere melodrama. But when Peter Steele admits to suicidal thoughts, his matter-of-fact musings are coloured by personal experience. On October 15, 1989, tanked up with alcohol and self-pity, the vocalist slashed both his wrists and crawled into the back seat of his car to die. “At that time it was because my girlfriend had left me and took 95 per cent of me with her. I thought I could not go on without her,” he sighs.

“Obviously I was wrong.

“The worst part was actually

coming home and hearing that my ex-girlfriend's mother had phoned my Mom and told her that i'd been hammering on her door with blood dripping from me. That was really embarrassing.”

At the risk of sounding unsympathetic, isn't slashing your wrists more of an attention-seeking act than a genuine suicide attempt?

"I wanted to shoot myself in the head," he shrugs, "but I couldn't get a gun - which is kinda ironic, considering you seem to be able to buy a gun on every corner in Brooklyn. Okay, it was probably not a wholehearted attempt last time - but next time it will be. Life is a game, and like cards sometimes you have to know when to stop playing. l'm not getting anything out of this any more.”

You must have fans writing to you telling you that Type O Negative's music has got them through difficult times - what do you think those fans are going to make of what you're saying today?

Steele shrugs, and drains his first glass of red wine.

“I’d advise anyone who's depressed to stop reading right now,” he smiles.

THE SHADOW of death hangs ominously over “World Coming Down,” Songs like “Everyone I Love Is Dead” and “Everything Dies” are rested in tragic personal experiences for Peter Steele.

The album was written in the aftermath of the death of his father on February 14, 1995, and recorded during a period when Steele lost an aunt and uncle and watched his mother battle againat serious illness for almost a year in a New York hospital.

"I expected her to die," Steele says quietly, "and unfortunately I still think she'll be next to go. One of the most traumatic things in life is loving someone and watching them die and knowing you can't help them. I just don't know how to handle watching people die. Maybe It's cowardice but I truly wish I'm next. I've tried everything in excess - Prozac, alcohol, cocaine and women - in an effort to deal with life. Nothing works for me.”

Steele says that his parents never discussed his own suicide attempt, but admits: "I think I hurt them a lot." The death of his father, has had a "profound effect" on the singer.

Is there anything you wish you'd asked your father before he died?

“I’d just like to have asked, Why didn't you spend more time with me?,” Steele says, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable. “When I was a kid and he'd come home from work, it was like Superman coming to the house, but I always felt like I was some little happy dog that was always underfoot and he was always trying to kick me away.”

The youngest of six children - he has five elder sisters - Steele can trace his current feelings of worthlessness right back to his childhood.

“I used to feel that I was an unsuccessful abortion,” he sighs. "That I’d pulled myself out of the bottom of the bucket and lived. I remember when school would start, my father would say things like, ‘Now we have to buy him clothes’, and I’d just wish I could unzip my skin, crawl out and slime myself under the bed and die. I felt like such a piece of shit.

“My mother still doesn't have a good word for my father,” he reveals.

“I don't think she ever forgave him for inflicting kids upon her. I'd love to say to her, 'Mom, if he was such a prick, why did you stay?’ He didn't seem a bad guy to me. I think he was just tired by the time I was born. My mother had me when she was 39 and my father was about 41.”

No offence intended, but as the youngest of six kids, did you consider the possibility that your conception might have been a mistake?

“Put it this way, there was an average of three years between my sisters, but there was eight years between me and my nearest sister,” Steele replies without flinching. “I know I'm just the result of a biological urge at four in the morning when the pharmacy was closed."

DEATH FIRST impinged upon Peter Steele's consciousness at the age of seven, when his grandfather passed away (“I didn't really understand what was going on but I saw my mother was crying, and thought that it was probably my fault,” he notes). Born of Russian and Icelandic parentage, Steele grew up in the middle of two theo-fascistic ideologies - Catholicism on one side and the Orthodox church on other”, and although he recalls praying after the deaths of his grandfather and uncle, he rejects the Christian notion of life after death.

“If Hell does exist, then I'm certainly going there,” he smiles. “I actually think it's cruel that someone who suffered their whole life is just going to go to the grave and share the same fate as people like Hitler or Stalin, who deserve to go to Hell, But no one said life is fair.”

Do you believe you have a soul?

“No, I'm just a very inefficient meat machine lubricated with mucus and semen,” he answers.

And you don't fear dying?

“I don't fear death, but i fear dying.” Steele confesses. “The thought of being in a car accident or being burned and lying in a hospital suffering is horrible. I don't like pain - If I found out I had cancer, l'd probably rob a bunch of banks and hope I'd get shot by the police.”

So when you shuffle off this mortal coil, how would you like to go?

“I've been thinking of the cleanest way to kill myself recently,” he admits.

“Everyone talks about poisoning themselves - but you vomit and shit everywhere, which is not cool. A shot in the head would be ideal, but I'd feel sorry for the person who had to clean my f**king brains up.

“I’ve got a tidier solution, actually," he smiles. "I want to attach a water pipe to the wall of my house and then take one of my weightlifting bars, sharpen the end like a spear and place it into the top of the pipe about 40 feet off the ground, with a rope attached. Then I'd lie under the other end of the pipe, point it at my temple and let go of the rope. Gravity would take its course and it wouldn't be too messy. That would be a neat end to all this misery.”

You don't go along with the view that suicide is the coward's way out?

“No, anyone who kills him or herself automatically gains my respect,” Steele shrugs, betraying not a flicker of a smile. “No one knows what lies beyond, and it's a trip from which there is no return. You have to admire anyone who'll willingly step into the unknown.”

You don't think it's a selfish act?

“It is, but I don't think if I killed myself 'd be affecting anyone detrimentally.” he considers. “If I had a wife and child I might think differently.

“I'm starting to think that children are maybe what I need, actually,” he continues. “Maybe bringing new life into the world is a way of replacing the void you feel when you lose someone. At the moment, though, I don't think that I could be so cruel to a woman as to implant her with my demon seed.”

SUCH COMMENTS are a reminder that even when discussing grave matters, Peter Steele's bone-dry sense of humour is never far from the surface. The singer concedes that “sarcasm has always been part of my insecurity” and admits: “It's a strange thing that when I'm lying people believe me, and when I'm telling the truth they don't.” But he insists that he's deadly serious about initiating his own exit from this life.

“I know someday I'll do it, I just don't know when,” he smiles. “When I feel l've become more of a burden than a help to those around me, It'll be time to take that swan-dive from the World Trade Centre. But one of the things that gives me a slight glimmer of happiness is irritating people, so l continue to live just to annoy them.

“But nothing gives me pleasure ary more,” he sighs, gulping down the dregs of his second glass of wine. “I’ve become really nihilistic and I just wonder who's going to be next to die. And I pray to God - if She's listening - that it's me.”

TYPE O Negative's ‘World Coming Down' album is out now.

[yeoja-dream]

Found/Fated/Forever

Part 1

Pairing: BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre: Fantasy, eventual smut, porn with plot, slow burn, hurt/comfort

Characters: Supernatural!BTS, Vampire!Jungkook, Supernatural!Reader

Content Warning: Woman in danger, roofie mention

Word Count: 3,500

It was a miserable fucking night. Granted it had also been a miserable fucking day, The rain had come down in sheets all throughout the day and well into the night, bringing the temperature down considerably. It was certainly summer, but as your thigh-high boot clicked against the wet sidewalk, you swore you could see your breath. 

I just had to fucking go out. You grumbled internally, shivering in your mini skirt and leather coat. It should have been plenty warm enough for a summer night, but even the weather seemed to be flipping you off today. Let’s just get black-out drunk, hook up with a stranger, and forget today ever happened. You hyped yourself up while rounding the corner to your favorite nightclub. 

The line was sparse, on account of the rain you supposed. Not that you ever really had to wait in line for this place anyways, you knew all the bouncers and if any gave you a hard time, you’d flash a little cleavage and be on your way. 

Despite the minimal line outside, indoors was as lively as any other Saturday night. The DJ tonight was someone local, you overheard, not bad you mused, moving through the crowd to an empty bar seat. Mostly trap beats, but his remixes were decent and the dance floor reflected his musical proficiency. 

“Y/N” The bartender, a salt and pepper man in his 40s regarded you warmly. “What will it be tonight?” 

“David.” You said back. “I thought you had a date tonight? I was expecting to see Vanessa. Sure the usual.” You slid your card forward, starting your tab. 

“You drink so many cosmos we are going to have to start calling you Nebula, you know,” David said, picking up the ingredients to your drink. “Vanessa and I switched. Date bailed. She must have known you were coming in and got jealous,” He added with a wink. 

“You flatter me.” You replied. “Nebula is too metal of a knick name for such a girly drink.” 

“Eh,” David replied, sliding your glass toward you. “I’ve seen you, you could out-drink any man in this place. Makes me feel bad for your wallet.” 

“You and I both.” You said, sipping on the pink liquid. “It’s good. Strong. Make yourself something, it’s on me.” 

“And that’s why you are my favorite customer, cheers,” David replied, before sliding off to the other end of the bar, busily helping other patrons. 

The bar seats here spun, a trait you always appreciated for easy people-watching. Picking up your drink and swiveling your seat around, you surveyed the crowd like you did most weekends. Mostly, it was boring. You watched them have fun, be messy, get into arguments, meet new friends, new lovers, it was fun, like watching a TV show of what your life could have looked like if things had been different. Some nights you’d spot a creep, someone slipping drugs into drinks or stalking ex-partners and you’d alert the bouncers to kick them out. Some nights you’d chat with someone silver-tongued and deep-pocketed to keep you interested, some nights that person would talk you into bed. 

It was cyclical if you had to really psychoanalyze yourself. The theme: unfulfillment, dissatisfaction, and unhappiness. It was easy, much easier anyway, to find comfort in these fleeting, temporary flings, to find purpose in playing superhero and saving a drunk woman from a creep, to find community in the transactional relationships held with people like David. But maybe you were thinking too much about things again, what the hell did you know? You were there, in that nightclub, just like everyone else.

You swiveled around again, signaling to David you were ready for your next cosmo. He had it ready just as soon as you could raise your hand. 

“Looks like you got something on your mind tonight. I’ll keep ‘em coming,” David said handing you your next drink. 

“Thanks.” You said, taking it from him. “Don’t forget to make something for yourself!” You called after him.

“I love drinking on your dime, don’t worry about me~” He replied with a hand wave. 

Before you can turn back to your self-centered musings, a zip of light darted through your periphery. Magic? It had been a minute since you had seen someone else use it, but surely you had to be mistaken right? Why would a place like this have magic?

You snapped and turned to the side, scanning the patrons carefully, but it only took a few seconds to realize who it was who had been casting. A man stood in the corner, tall with dark, masculine features, his shoulders were broad, his chest and torso the perfect V. He wore a plain, dark, fitted t-shirt that showed off large, corded arms. He was the picture of masculinity, attractive by anyone’s standards, and as you regarded him now, he was entirely silhouetted in magic. The silver, translucent aura was unmistakable. Glamour magic. 

He had to be an incubus right? The only other creatures capable of glamour magic like that are the tirions, but those were exceptionally rare. You could relate to that. As you pondered the possibilities, you noticed a small, curly-haired blonde woman, undoubtedly human by the way she seemed in awe of this male. You needed to get closer, you decided slipping off your seat and pushing through the bodies until you were in earshot. 

“So, why don’t you finish your drink and we can enjoy a few more at my place?” The male voice spoke. 

“Well, I - I - I uh, f-f-friend I, uh…” The female voice spoke, a mix of slurred speech and nervous babbling. 

Another wave of magic pulsed from him. 

“I think we should get out of here, beautiful.” He insisted again. 

“I think… that is… okay.” The female replied voice halted, disconnected. Stiffly and robotically you watched her put her drink on the bar top, then equally as robotically begin turn around and begin to exit.

Incubus or tirion, you would be damned if you would let them feed here. You too put your drink down on the bar top and made your way to the exiting couple. 

“Hey! Girl we were looking everywhere for you!” You walked right up to the woman, placing a hand on her shoulder. You were admittedly a bit rusty, but your connection to magic was as inherent as the ability to breathe. You called forth your magic from deep in the ground, willing it to run through your body. You could see the magical charm this male held on this woman, and while willing your magic into a sword, you severed the charm. 

The woman blinked up at you, dazed and confused. “The rest of us are dancing over here!” You now link arms with the woman, her considerably smaller frame putting into perspective how powerless this woman was to this male. As you begin to walk away with her, the male voice calls out from behind you. 

“Hey.” The voice is stern, flat, and deep. More noticeable to you, however, is the overwhelming rush of glamor magic that washes over you. You will your magic up, shielding the smaller woman from its power. 

“Hey sorry!” You turn around. “We came out as a girl's night and we wanna keep it that way! No hard feelings!” With that, you pull the woman with you and away, towards the exit. 

“It’s time to go home, sweetheart. Are those your friends over there?” You ask the woman. She nods in response. 

“Come on, let's say goodbye and then I’m going to walk you to a cab.” You lead the woman to her friends, who all in a drunken stupor thank you for taking care of their friend, and forget to ask why it is she needs to leave. It is probably better that way anyway. 

You lead the woman out the door, up the stairs, and out into the cold rainy night. You held the umbrella for the two of you, walking in complete silence. 

“The taxi rank is around the corner, but this time of night and the weather I’ll bet it's empty, so I’m just going to call ahead.” You said to no one in particular. You weren’t sure if she was really listening, but you felt better saying something. 

Sure enough, when you rounded the corner, the taxi rank was completely abandoned. 

“Figures,” you grumbled, watching the poor, shivering woman stand next to you while you waited, the sound of the rain hammering on your shared umbrella punctuating your silence. Wordlessly, you shed your leather jacket and place it over her shoulders while you wait, willing the magic from the ground to keep you warm. It was totally against the rules, but hey, it had already been a weird night. 

“Do you remember your address?” You asked the woman. She nodded in response. 

“Do you have enough money to get home?” Another nod. 

“Did you drive to the club?” A shake this time. 

She didn’t want to talk, obviously, and another extended silence descended upon the two of you. 

The woman broke the silence this time. 

“What happened to me?” She asked, voice sounding hollow, hurt, and confused. 

“You were roofied.” You replied, matter-of-factly. “The man you were talking to was very bad, which is why I’m making sure you get home.” 

“I’ve been roofied before. It didn’t go away in one second. I spent the whole night puking. You touched my shoulder and the fog lifted. Isn’t that crazy?” She spouted off, looking up at you for support answers. 

You knew what she was looking for, and yet you couldn’t give it to her. “They’re coming up with new drugs all the time. Maybe this one clears your system crazy fast. I am really sorry this happened to you.” You replied. 

“Thank you for helping me.” She replied, and as if ordained by a benevolent ruler, the taxi pulled up. You helped her into the car, wished her a good night, and saw her off before turning on a heel and marching back to that nightclub. You had a bone to pick. 

-----------------------------------------------

Where the bumping music of the club before gave the area a cool, hip-hop vibe, now contributed to your fuge state fueled by rage. The male, miraculously, was stood in the same spot, tied up in conversation with another man. An accomplice perhaps, you thought. You’d figure it out as soon as you rocked this dude's shit. 

Pushing passed the crowd and shoving the man he was locked in conversation with aside, in a flash you willed your magic up to protect your fist and you let loose the meanest right hook you could muster, for that woman and all the other women you were sure this scum had victimized. 

Your fist collided solidly with his jaw, knocking him over and staggering him. You hit him hard enough that the bystanders around you audibly reacted. The male straightened back out, rubbing his jaw in pain. Looking down at you in what could only be described as bewilderment. 

“I would say there is a special place in hell for people like you, but you would know something about that, wouldn’t you?” You spit at the male. 

“So what if I do?” The male replied, voice rich and baritone. “What’s it to you?” 

“There are clubs for people like you.” You replied venemously. 

“And you…?” He replied, lifting an eyebrow.

“I am not here looking for prey.” You said, looked at him with a disgusting look. “Just because you can’t hack it in the supernatural clubs doesn’t mean you can just come out to the human clubs looking for easy pickings.” 

“Do you condemn the wolf for breaking into the lamb pen? Or do you just understand that the wolf, too, needs to eat?” 

“Ask a sheep farmer what he does to wolves in the lamb pen.” 

“Is that what you are to them? The farmer? Watching over the little sheep? Or perhaps you are just a little puppy, barking at the big bad predator” He leaned in closer. “There will come a day when your pathetic little yaps won’t be enough to chase away the big bad guy, what will you do then, little puppy?” 

“Get. Out.” You said through gritted teeth. “Or so help me I will put you back where you came from.” Rage, pure rage coursed through you, mixed with magic, you felt it zapping and prickling at your skin, your hair standing on edge as if the lighting was about to strike. 

“Now now, no need to get so wound up.” He started pushing past you, before stopping to continue. “I was going to hurt you, for taking my dinner. But now, now I hope to meet you again very soon, little puppy.” He finished, walking out the front door, a swagger in his footsteps that made you want to blast him from behind with every bit of radiant damage you could physically muster. 

“Hey.” A different male voice snapped you to the present. “You’re going to call attention to yourself. Just accept it.” 

Another wave of glamor magic washed over you, a different spell though, a calming one you readily identified having used it before. You allow the stranger's magic in, the new stream slipping in, soothing your breathing, calming your heart rate, and slowing the stream of magic through your body, before exiting. 

“You were about to make us all do the electric slide.” The man said with a chuckle. “Sorry, dated reference. I am kind of old.” 

“Me too.” You commented, still internally reeling from the events of the last hour. “It was funny, thanks for the hand.” You turned to him, finally. The man who was keeping the incubus engaged. You were calm, but you were still warry. You regarded him more carefully now, he too was exceptionally handsome, but in a less brutalistic way than the incubus was. He was also shorter than the incubus and considerably more lithe in his frame. His baggy streetwear and half up half down hairstyle betrayed a surprisingly strong body, you were willing to bet, however. “With that being said, who the hell are you?” 

“That is a complicated question with a complicated answer.” He replied. “I am sure you can relate. Shall we?” He gestured to two conveniently empty seats sitting on the corner of the bar. 

“You drink cosmos, right?” He said handing you a pink cocktail. You looked at him incredulously. 

“On a normal night, I don’t accept drinks that I didn’t watch David make, after all that what makes you think I’m going to accept this?” 

“Oh my god, you are so right. You know what I will drink this don’t even worry about it, I’ll flag the bartender and you order whatever you want and I’ll pick it up.” He replied, pulling the drink back to him. 

After a few minutes, David walked up to your end of the bar, regarding the two of you silently. 

“What will it be, sir?” David asked the man. 

“Whatever the lady will have.” 

“Whiskey. Top Shelf.” 

“Coming right up, ma’am,” David replied, pouring a glass and sliding it to you. With that, he made himself scarce. 

“How do you know the incubus?” You asked the man, keeping your tone flat, disinterested in case they were buddies. 

“Not at all, to be frank” He replied, sipping on his Cosmo. 

“When I walked in after getting that woman home, you seemed to be engaged in lively conversation with that man.” You said, bemused. “What was it that you were discussing?” 

“How we were going to hurt you.” He replied, matter-of-factly. 

“And how was that?” You asked. 

“Well, he was angry when you left with that woman, really angry. I had a feeling that you’d come back and I wanted you to get your revenge, so I placated him with stories of how I would help tear you limb from limb and eat your insides in front of this whole club, the usual.”  

“Uh-huh.” You replied, skeptically. “And why should I believe that? Maybe the two of you are waiting to jump me as soon as I leave out that door.” 

“Nah, you’d kick my ass.” He replied. “Besides, I have this.” He held up a clear, tear-drop-shaped glass pendant on a cord around his neck. Suspended in the glass were a clear liquid and a red liquid, yin and yang. “Because of this, it is impossible for me to lie.” 

“Obviously you are going to have to prove it.” You replied, scoffing and sipping your whiskey. 

“Easy.” He replied. “The sky is purp-” Before he could finish, red and blue light pulsed from the pendant, and the man doubled over in pain, grabbing his chest. “Pigs can fl-” and again, before the man could finish the sentence, he doubled over in pain clutching his chest. 

“You could have programmed it to react that way with certain voice commands.” You replied back, still skeptical. 

“Hard to convince, that’s fair enough.” He replied, shrugging. “Tell me to say something, and I will say it, scouts honor.” 

“Okay…” You replied, thinking for a moment. “Tell me I’m ugly,” you said with a smirk. 

“You’re ug- ak!” The same reaction as before. 

“Thank you I know.” You said, flicking the hair off your shoulder. A devilish smile crept across your face as another prompt crossed your mind. “Say this one and I will believe you.” 

“Anything.” 

“Say I have a tiny penis.” 

He looked at you incredulously, but nonetheless began “I have a tiny pe- ah! Enough please believe me this hurts!” 

“Good to know~” you chuckled. “Alright George Washington, what are you doing here anyway? What are you?” You asked him. 

“I am a vampire. As for what I am doing here, that question is a bit more difficult to answer.” 

“Are you looking for prey? Just like that incubus?” 

“What? God. No. I don’t need to look for prey thank you very much. I am very much mated.” 

“Mated? But you’re hanging out in a human club?” 

“Something like that.” 

“Okay, start the bigger picture then if the smaller picture is hard. What is your name?” 

“Jeon Jungkook. A pleasure.” He extended his hand. 

“Y/N. It is steadily becoming a pleasure as well.” you shook his hand. “What brings you to this city, Jeon Jungkook?”

“I live here with my mates,” he replied. “Most of us work in the city, myself included. I sing.” 

“Oh wow!” you recoiled in surprise. “What do you sing? Do you perform?” 

“No, it's a little hard to be a public persona when your face is never changing, ya know? I do backup vocals and I am the voice behind a few recording artists, some big some small.” He shrugged.  

“Some big?” You asked. 

“I can’t really talk openly about it. I’ll tell you another time.” He added with a wink. 

“Fair enough.” You replied, taking another sip of whiskey. 

“I was right behind you, by the way.” 

“Hm?” You replied. 

“Maybe I should back up a little.” He started. “I’m here, in this human club tonight, because I was called to be. By whom or what I do not know, but I knew I needed to come in. I arrived shortly after you did, I think. You were already drinking at the bar, people-watching. I saw the magic too, and I saw what he was attempting to do to that poor woman. You and I stood up simultaneously.” 

“You want a congratulations for thinking about stopping a rapist?” You scoffed at him. 

“No. No, I am explaining myself poorly. I am trying to say I had your back. I wouldn’t have let him hurt you.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You said, giving him a half cheers with your glass. 

“At first I thought that this is what I was called here for, to save you or to dispatch this creep, then I could fuck off home and be the hero. But then I saw how powerful you were. How readily the magic came to you, how you bent it to your will like you were folding paper. It was only then I came to understand, that I think I was called here to meet you. And I am extremely glad I was.” 

You glanced at his chest and then, at the pendant hanging on his chest. The light remained dark, and when you slid your gaze up to meet his, there was an intense sincerity there that made you blush and shy away. 

“I am not really sure I understand what it is exactly you are getting at.” You state looking down at the melting cubes in your whiskey. 

“I think I might, but I will need you to go with me on this one.”  --------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi-ya this one has been cooking in my brain for like 3 years so enjoy plz! I am just going to post parts one and two consecutively because fuck it they're finished and the Ritalin hit and so I WROTE. I'm working on Intertwined, I just had to get it straightened out from this story because of their similar themes but we good, let me cook. I will update the tags as WHAT each member of BTS and Y/N as it is revealed but for now, no spoilers eheheh. Put what you think they're going to be below!

[impishjesters]

Touch-starved Moon

CW// non-sexual touching, teasing, no actual sexual content notes: Sun and Moon are separate animatronics, not mentioned but implied that the reader is already dating the boys A/N: I don't know what to call this, a preview? Snippet? Drabble? Either way, late last night I got on the topic of touch-starved Moon with my friend, which led to me typing up bits at a time to send them. They were my magical muse because I've been having writer's block, so I just find it funny that I wrote up a bunch via Discord messages versus my usual setup...and on my phone of all things. Maybe I'll do this more to try and get out of my writer's block, definitely seems to be doing a better job than forcing myself to write shit up. But yeah, since this was written up on my phone I've gone through and fixed all my 2 am sleepy typos and grammar mistakes, obviously this isn't finished. Again why I said I don't really know how to label it. Maybe with enough interest, I could pick it up and flesh it out a bit more. But it wasn't intended to be this long, just like the first bit then a jump to the reader touching and over-stimming Moon and junk 💀

“Hm, Moonie?” Your hand drifted down his chest plate before giving the elastic of his pants a quick snap.

Moon hummed, gaze still locked on your face. “Yes, star?”

“What did I just say?”

“What?”

“Oh my, Moonpie were you distracted?”

“I was listening.” he hissed. Moon’s chest plate rumbled with annoyance but grew warm under your touch.

“Mhm, and what was I saying?”

Moon froze and sent your hand a glance, watching as your fingers walked their way down his stomach. “D-daycare..”

“Daycare? Mm, that’s a pretty broad topic.”

“Cleaning..” he cleared his throat. “Cleaning the daycare..”

“Moonie… It’s morning, the daycare is already clean.”

Shit.

“Seems like someone hasn’t fully booted up. I’ll overlook it this time, try not to get distracted with the kiddos, okay?”

Moon forced himself not to chase your hand as it left him, forcing out a grunt in agreement.

“Well,” you stretched and turned to look out into the daycare. “I’m gonna go find Sunny and ask him for his thoughts on what I said.”

He flinched. Did you ask him for his thoughts on something? For the daycare? Moon held back a whimper as you left, crimson eyes trailing the hand you used to touch him, now being used to wave Sun down. The same hand used to touch him now rested against Sun, and it made his chest ache and stomach churn.

Why did you stop touching him?

The rest of the morning was spent with the feeling of eyes on you. Every curious glance resulted in catching Moon’s gaze on you instead of the children he was supposed to be tending to. And without fail, every time he was caught he’d look away and find a way to excuse himself to a different place in the daycare.

By nap time the staring didn’t let up, even Sun had commented, questioning why Moon was so out of it and staring at you.

Moon silently stewed in his emotions, irritated at every touch between you and Sun. You’d yet to touch him again, in fact, you’d gone out of your way to avoid touching him.

During lunchtime, you’d made sure to avoid his touch while handing out the lunch trays, only to touch Sun’s by “accident”.

What made Sun so special? Was it because he’d spaced out earlier? Were you upset? Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be in Sun’s place right now.

Should he apologize? If he was going to he needed to think fast, you’d turn away from Sun and were headed straight for…him?

“Hey Moonpie.” You whispered, careful of the sleeping children, and sat beside him on the floor keeping a decent distance between the two of you. “Feeling better?”

Moon’s voice box rumbled. “Peachy.” Despite the darkness, he could see the gap between the two of you clear as day. Normally you’d sit on his lap with him during nap time while Sun took to doing a mid-day clean up.

“Is that so? I’m glad.”

The glow-in-the-dark stars of the nap room alongside Moon’s dimly lit eyes gave you just enough lighting to see the gap between you two. His leg twitched and you took to distracting yourself to look at a nearby napping child—time to see how the event from this morning would unfold.

The two of you sat in silence aside from the music box playing away in Moon’s chest. Careful to keep your eyes elsewhere, you’d occasionally catch the gap between the two of you growing smaller and smaller.

“What do you think of a sleepover tonight?”

Moon flinched, pausing mid-movement to process the question. “Sleepover? Tonight?”

“Mhm, I talked it out with Sun. Use the theater room and get pillows and blankets to cuddle up together.”

Harsh red lights lit up your face, nearly blinding you and risking waking the children. You slapped a hand over his eyes and they instantly dimmed. Well, that’s new.

You’d c-cuddle them? Of course, you’d done that before but that was…well before his current predicament. No, wait focus.

Your hand lingers on his eyes despite the light dimming, watching those tiny pinprick pupils stare at your hand. Oh right, it probably doesn’t feel great having someone’s hand on your eyes.

Before your hand can fully pull away and lose all contact Moon grabs it, shifting it to his cheek instead. It’s at that moment you feel his leg touch yours…he closed the gap you’d intentionally placed between the two of you.

Such a touchy little Moonpie.

[tvx6000]

☆ talk to me

genre: fluff, angst (?), hurt/comfort

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

warnings: anxiety, cussing, conflict(?), crying blah blah

wc: 1770

t-note: i don't mean to make this a trend in my posts.....but i hate this fic lollsloslso TT first and foremost it's completely not my style of wirting, capitalization and all. but I found this unfinished with a completely different storyline and though hmmm this could be worth posting. ngl the quality of writing decreases as you read i feel like :3 the end is kind rushed (?), i couldn't figure out how to resolve it. please send me any feedback you have, as well as any requests!!

You both were at an award show. Hyunjin had on this gorgeous jet black suit, decked out in YSL accessories. His hair and makeup were done special that night, the stylist spending a few extra moments on each feature, and you honestly didn’t think you'd ever been more in love with him.

You were both sitting at a small table, while the rest of the boys were socializing with other idols. You both had just been given the green light on announcing your relationship, and Hyunjin wasted no time. Probably minutes after he received the call, he went straight to twitter to post a selfie of you two,

“my muse :)”

It’d been a few weeks since then, and soon enough came your first outing as an official couple, this award show. Your anxiety was at an all time high – though when was it not – and Hyunjin had been extra attentive and sweet to you all day, your happiness and comfort being most important to him.

But soon enough, you couldn’t stop the pit of guilt laced bile forming in your stomach. This was his special night, and here you were acting like a baby. I mean, really Y/n? You couldn’t have waited till-

“Baby?”

Suddenly your mind went silent for a second, and you realized your lover was trying to bring you back.

“Your eyes look cloudy baby what’s wrong? Do you need to step out for a minute?”

The pit starts to bubble extra hard.

Trying your best to put on a smile – although it comes out a little wobbly – “Of course not! I’m fine honey, just a little jittery waiting for the awards to be announced.”

It was a decent lie, but the execution was terrible and you both knew it.

“Babe…….” He questioned with his eyebrows raised skeptically.

“I’m fine Jinnie, I promise.”

His shoulders seemed to slack a little at that last part, though you could tell he was still on edge.

“Okay….I’m gonna go get us some water, don’t hesitate to come find me if anything at all happens. I mean it.” He stated sternly

“Cross my heart hope to die” You replied with a soft smile

And as heavy as your heart was, you still couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on him as he walked away.

Wow…….He’s really yours.

Soon enough, it came time for the awards. Hyunjin was back by your side, the other boys in seats right next to him. His hand holding yours as the awards were announced.

“And Fan Favorite Boy Group of the Year goes to……… JYPE’s Stray Kids!!”

You couldn’t help but break into the widest grin you’d ever smiled as the boys stood up to go accept their award. 

They were so talented, and they’d worked relentlessly so this win didn’t come as a surprise to you. They deserved it.

But what did come as a surprise to you, is when Hyunjin was about to walk away, he turned, leaned down, and planted a firm kiss right on your mouth. Now in the moment, you acted natural, kissing back and smiling then waving him off. But as soon as you were certain there were no cameras on you. Your smile dropped and your heart started racing. 

Oh god, what would everyone think? They’re gonna talk about how unprofessional that was, and how the boys don’t deserve that award. Fuck this is all my fault, I shouldn’t have let him kiss me. I shouldn’t be here.

And unfortunately, right as you got up to excuse yourself, you didn’t notice the boys giving their individual thank you’s, and Hyunjin watching you run off with a look of hurt, worry, and betrayal plastered on his face.

To anyone else, your thoughts sounded completely irrational, but anxiety isn’t rational. And they took over your legs before you could think about it any further.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in the bathroom. It feels like it’s been a few minutes, but as you hear several rounds of applause, and soon enough rapid frantic knocking on the door, you know you’ve been in there far too long.

“Baby? Y/n? Babe please I know you’re in there?........Baby what happened?”

Fuck. You don’t know. You’re suddenly hit with a huge wave of humiliation and guilt. You know you couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. So with two quick swipes under your eyes, you swing the door open to see your Jinnie standing there, eyes glazed over, and out of breath – did he run here?

“Oh my god Y/n you had me worried fucking sick. What happened baby? You just ran off and I-”

“I’m fine Jinnie.”

You stated as firmly as you could in the moment. You felt a sharp pain in your chest as a look of hurt flashed across his face. You walked straight past him and beelined for the door you all came through. You just wanted to get home.

You soon heard harsh footsteps behind you, you could tell he was angry. Fuck.

You soon saw Leeknow waiting by the limo, and as you approached he shot you a look of concern and confusion, almost wordlessly asking you ‘are you okay?’. You mustered up a small smile of reassurance and climbed into the limo. This was going to be the longest ride of your life.

The whole way home, Hyunjin wouldn’t even look at you. Though you were trying to exactly grab his attention, his expression stayed the same the whole ride. Nonchalant. Too nonchalant  for your liking. You know you deserved it but he looks so calm, you’d think nothing would’ve happened at all. And suddenly, the dull ache in your heart became a sharp, shooting pain.

You soon made it home, rushing out the car with a hasty goodbye and jogging to your door. Not even bothering to drop anything besides your shoes at the door, you rushed upstairs to the bathroom.

There’s no way Hyunjin would wanna talk to you right now…so what should you do? Maybe if you go to bed quick enough, you can sleep this all away, as if it was a bad dream. So that’s what you begin to do.

You strip out of your bordering uncomfortable dress and take the pins out of your hair, and get into the shower.

As you let the water run over you, you began to think. 

How can I apologize for this? A regular “Sorry, I love you” can’t fix this. No, Hyunjin deserves better than that. He deserves better than me. God I hope he doesn’t break up with me, I don’t know what I’d do. He’s been really quiet, and I haven’t heard anything upstairs. Oh no what if he left? What if-

You hastily finish washing and all but leap out of the shower. After haphazardly drying off and throwing on a (his) t-shirt and underwear, you quickly pad downstairs.

As you descend the stairs you notice the silence that has taken over your home. It’s almost as if you're the only one home, and that scares you.

“Jinnie?” you almost whisper into the space.

Nothing.

Your heart starts to race and you feel like crying,

“Hyunjin?” you call as you roam throughout the downstairs.

He’s not here. You start to panic, looking frantically around for your phone, and just as the first tear falls and you start to bolt upstairs, you hear the door unlocking.

You spin around, and there he is. When did he change?

As he walks in with a bag and takes off his shoes, you freeze. You don’t know if you were ready for this conversation yet.

“Hi” He mumbles as he sets everything down on the counter.

“Where were you?” You force out, the weight in your chest making it hard to speak.

“I picked up some food for dinner, since neither of us-” He stops as he looks up at you, hair pulled back so he has a clear line of sight.

“What is it? Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry.” you say with a wobbly voice

“I’m really really sorry I don’t know what my problem was earlier”

He stares at you for a long moment. Or maybe it was just for a second, you aren’t completely present.

“It’s okay baby. I was upset earlier but now I just wanna make sure you’re fed and figure out what’s wro-”

“No Jinnie I really mean it I don’t know what was wrong earlier but I swear to you it will never happen again” You said through heaving breaths- wait, heaving? When did you start crying?

“Hey hey hey baby it is fine. I promise you I’m not upset. Something was obviously wrong and I don’t blame you. At all.”

He swiftly moved toward you and wrapped you up in a hug.

“I know you get anxious sometimes, and it can cause miscommunication. But that’s why I need you to talk to me baby. Please. I know life can be a lot. Especially when my career is involved, but I need to know that you know you are my top priority always. And all I want is for you to feel happy and safe. So when I know that you don’t but you won’t let me help you, I start to feel a little helpless.”

He pauses and brings a hand to cradle the back of your head,

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, and I like to say it comes naturally. Like I was born to do it. But unfortunately, I can’t read your mind. So please. Help me help you baby. Let me help you”

He presses multiple kisses to the top of your head and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. You start to sob. Heavy, achy, cries but he can make out the few words you're saying.

“I love you Jinnie I’m sorry, I’ll always tell you what’s wrong I promise” You say punctuating with a long loud sniffle.

He squeezes you, “My sweet girl….I love you so much more”

He pulls away, “Let’s eat before it gets cold”

As he begins to walk and you follow, he dramatically sighs,

“I must say though…..I gave quite the speech…can’t believe you missed it baby”

As he looks up from the food, he sees your eyes tearing up once again,

“Oh my goodness baby, I was joking I’m sorry” He says as he pulls you in for another hug

He kisses your cheek and breathes out, “What will I do with you baby?”

thank u for reading :3

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Three

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None

Notes: So sorry last weekend’s chapter was late this week, I’m back to my regularly scheduled posting! I’m so excited so many of you like this series so far!!

Word Count: 1131

Series Masterlist

• January 25, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

My second day at Forks high school started much smoother than the first. It was pretty much uneventful until I decided to eat lunch alone outside on the picnic tables in the quad. It was an overcast day much like all the others and maybe a little chilly, but still decent enough since it wasn’t currently raining. It made for the perfect condition being that no one else really wanted to eat outside.

That is, until I spotted none other than Jasper Hale headed in my direction.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, pointing to the opposite end of the table I’m currently occupying.

“Not at all.” I respond, idly tidying my area self consciously.

“Sorry, sometimes it’s a little overwhelming inside and I come out here to get away.” He says by way of explanation, laying down the sketch pad he carried with him along with a few pencils and a smudge stick. “Mostly I just come out here to draw uninterrupted.” He sits and flips to an empty page, tilting it a little away from my view.

“I get it, large crowds aren’t my thing either. Plus in the two days I’ve known Emmett I can already tell that he probably creates a hostile drawing environment.” I finish with a light chuckle, turning my attention toward the unfinished apple in my hand.

“You draw too?” He asks, eyebrows lifting as he begins a rough sketch on the blank paper.

“Oh heck no, I don’t have any artistic abilities like that, as much as I wish I did.” I frown, taking a bite of my apple.

“I didn’t think I had it in me either, but I took some classes, watched some videos online, and doodled around a lot. Finally got the hang of it although I still don’t really think I’m that good.” He trails off, concentrating on his pencil strokes. “It helps with the stress though, especially when there’s a lot going on.”

“That is… actually kind of neat. Having an outlet that’s also inspiring, creating art and it centering you in the process.” I muse out loud, watching a face beginning to take shape on his paper.

I’m about to ask who he’s drawing when the bell signaling the end of lunch rings out in the empty air surrounding us. I gather my trash and stand while he tucks his supplies away.

“Thanks for keeping me company today.” I tell him as I gaze into his beautifully golden eyes, not quite ready to part ways with him.

“Thanks for allowing me to disturb your peace and quiet.” And as if reading my mind, “Mind if I walk you to your next class?”

“Oh um, sure.” Trying not to seem too excited by the proposition of spending more time in this gorgeous boy’s presence. I tuck some loose strands of hair behind my ear and walk towards him.

“Lead the way, darlin’.” He announces, sweeping his arm in the direction of the main school building, a smirk on his lips.

I laugh and shake my head at his antics, a blush creeping up my cheeks as I walk past him in the direction of my economics class.

Ditching my trash in the trash can as we leave the quad, I miss the way he grins at the accomplishment of making me giggle. I also fail to notice the astounded looks of his adopted siblings as we pass them unaware of their presence through the windows of the cafeteria. Faces reflecting their shocked thoughts at seeing their brother openly flirting with a female compared to his normal stoic facade.

“How did you do it?” Emmett asks, leaning against the locker next to mine.

“Could you be a little more specific?” I ask, a little confused by his blunt question.

“You’ve been here less than a week and my brother is wrapped around your little finger.” He says, holding up his pinky to wiggle in my face.

I laugh and shut my locker, “Emmett, I’ve had all of like two interactions with Jasper, you’re looking into this a little too much.”

“He usually keeps to himself, this isn't the normal Jasper we’re talking about.” He falls into step slightly behind me on my way to the last class of the day, his large build not moving through the throng of students as quickly as I am.

I turn to look at my new friend, “I literally have no clue, it’s probably nothing Em!” My heart picking up speed at just the thought of Jasper. Is he actually interested in me? Is that what Emmett is getting at?

There’s no way, beautiful people like him don’t go for people like me.

I turn and leave Emmett behind in the hallway as students finish rushing through the halls, the tardy bell ringing.

American History, the class I share with Jasper Hale and it also happens to be the last class of the day. Unfortunately though, his assigned seat is on the other side of the room. At least it’s more forward than mine, leaving me to observe him for most of the class period without him seeing.

History is also my worst subject; whether it’s world or US history, I hate it all the same. So many mistakes and atrocities, I wish I could let it flow in one ear and out the other without having to remember it for tests.

Today though, I get the sense our teacher has had a difficult day since he’s decided to let us work together freely. Seeing as I don’t really know anyone yet, I’m forced to work alone.

As if he could feel my discomfort and irritation with the assignment, Jasper Hale appears at the edge of my peripheral vision, claiming the abandoned desk next to mine and turning a few heads of our classmates.

“You’re thinking so loud I could practically hear it from across the room.” He mutters lowly without looking up from his worksheet.

“I’m thinking too loud?” I respond defensively as I cut him a look that would normally skin boys alive.

“Would you like some help or not, doll?” He asks, a grin sliding across his lips as his eyes meet mine in challenge.

“I-uh, I hate history.” I manage to blurt out, a little flustered that he so easily bypassed my frustrated facade without a blink.

“I do want that explanation eventually, but we have work to finish and only,” He breaks eye contact to glance at the clock above the board, “thirty seven minutes left before you’re on your own.”

“Alright Hale, what did you get for number four?” I deflate and accept his offer to save me from the misery of suffering through this stupid assignment alone.

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